I never liked poetry
until I wrote it.

I couldn't understand
why stanza's split up
into three or four or 12
lines.

Why a poet
writes rhymes of sadness as if
it's a better way to show it

I hated that everyone
thought they had the answers
to leading a better life
because they were the ones
who took the road
not taken.

But then, one day
I pressed a
pen to paper

And the words that
were once kept inside
flowed out like those rivers
that the poets kept talking about.

And the stanzas
separated themselves
into groups at parties
that all mingled together

while also standing alone.

My words became physical,
The tears I couldn't press
out of my eyes
were pressed on paper.

And the poem became
a song
and the song became
a new life form

And everyday I look
at what I have created
and

Smile.

I don't want my life to be
amazing, i just want it
to be happy...

True love:
Loving perfectly
an imperfect person

True love:
Giving everything
For only one

True love:
I love you
I love you too...

Days are dark, nights lay long,
Burning bridges keep us warm.
Wearily walking this road again
We bare the weight of the tinder,
The whispers and the flame.

What was once,
Shall never be the same.
The past floats as ash
Shadows cast on fallen rain.
While the willows weep in vain
The canopies confer in koans
The wind is passing wisdom,
Through leaves and seeds unsown.