Man....

I’ve seen seven years
Of bruatality.
But In reality,
That’s not bad.

And that’s what
Makes it sad
When you’re asked
If you have a strut
In your step

Left...............
Them guessing

That comes to me
Don’t you see?

I’m about to enter
A Decade
That starts with
Three

Oh gee, oh boy
I’ve realized that
My ones and twos
Was spent as a

Catalyst for
More noise.
But I never
Asked...
was I Poised?

In the world
Where you
Can see
Bright lights
And big sky’s
Simultaneously.
Is this happy?

Triumphs
When you lost
A few
Letters in
MMXX

Well..
Place your bets
On
I
Or else
Nigh might be closer
Than what we think

All snowflakes are the same
It may be a wonder while
You’re walking within a
wait... stop the alliteration

Literally you can see me
Plant the seed that
Won’t grow
Who knows?

Slippery substances
Have never been my
Forte as I foray
Through life

Like those snowflakes
That all stay the same
Weather you agree
Or not, they al-
Ways come this

Time
Of
The
Year

The fabric of gods and men
Blend so sweetly, so softly

Slowly, as I touch the next barricade
Made by those who were once hemmed

Stemmed from who knows now?
Cowardice? Probably not.

Thoughts on this matter?
Battered, bruised, and tattered
By legacy of blood once splattered

...Salivating....

...Waiting
For the next
Time

That “they” can sustain
Subtle nuances within
Preconceived notions
Of
Intelligence quotients.

Motions of grandeur,
Like a rambler
That still believes
In a pure
God.