If I was a mountain

That soared towards the sky,

With craggy snow caps

And stormy grey eyes-



Then you'd be the clouds

That swaddled my peak,

That silenced my thunder

When I tried to speak.



If I was the earth

The desert, in fact:

With arid dry soil

And mud, baked and cracked-



You'd be the rain

The downpour that soothed;

The balm to my bruises,

Relief to my wounds.



If I was the Moon

In the indigo night,

With stars as my blanket

And silver; my light-



Well you'd be the Sun

Just always behind

That lent me your glow

And caused me to shine.

Our lives are just like books
Filled with numerous chapters
We may not like what’s inside
But turning the page and
Continuing the story
Is the only way to move on

why a poet?
because a poet
hears the words
which sing the
purest harmonies
because a poet
paints their portraits
in pastels
of phrases
because a poet
dances their agonies
into leaps of faith
and pirouettes
of passion
because a poet
sees
the beauty
in the commonplace
and captures
the moment
in a snapshot
of ink and white
because a bloodless world
cuts itself
a thousand times

and the poet bleeds

I met some bad bad friends,
But we have great fun,
No regrets,
I can't remember the rest,
I started smoking,
I started drinking,
The LSD kicked in,
I met some bad bad friends

I laughed,
Handing him the bottle of *****,
"Here's your liberator"

I went to a birthday party,
But I remember what you said.
You told me not to drink at all,
So I had a Sprite instead.
I felt proud of myself
The way you said I would
That I didn’t choose to drink and drive
Though some friends said I should.
I knew I made a healthy choice, and
Your advice to me was right
As the party ended
And the kids drove out of sight.
I got into my own car,
Sure to get home in one piece,
Never knowing what was coming,
Something I expected least.
Now I’m lying on the pavement,
I can hear the policeman say,
“the kid that caused this wreck was drunk.”
His voice seems far away.
My own blood is all around me,
As I try hard not to cry.
I can hear the paramedic say,
“This girl is gonna die.”
I’m sure this guy had no idea
While he was flying high,
Because he chose to drink and drive
That I would have to die.
So why do people do it?
Knowing it ruins lives.
But now the pain is cutting me
Like a hundred stabbing knives.
Tell my sister to not be afraid;
Tell Daddy to be brave,
And when I go to heaven
To put “Daddy’s Girl” on my grave.
Someone should have told him
That it’s wrong to drink and drive.
Maybe if his mom and dad had,
I’d still be alive.
My breath is getting shorter,
I’m really getting scared.
These are my final moments
And I’m so unprepared.
I wish that you could hold me, Mom,
As I lie here and die.
I wish that I could tell you,
I love you and goodbye.

What do mirrors see
When they look into themselves?
They see an unending
always-changing
maze
of themselves.
Full of
twists and
turns that
will never be explored.

What do people see
When we look into themselves?
We see a
never ceasing
always growing
labyrinth
of ourselves.
Full of
secrets and
pain that
will never be uncovered.

So, my dear, I ask you again:
What do mirrors see
When they look into themselves?