Hello Baby Girl, welcome to this crazy situation.
This world of opportunity and lazy Lamentations.
Don't worry though my daughter, we will be alright.
Cause we're not to falter, we always see what's right.
Your family loves you, they won't leave you be.
But trust me at the end of the day it will be you and me.
Cause I'm your daddy and your my blessed beauty.
And the love I feel for you really says it truly.
Bringing you into this world of so much pressure,
Me and your mom decided to call you Esther.
Your middle is Marie, and your last takes after me.
But trust me you will always be my Georgia Peach.

Old beaten path, bent backward on its axis acting like a scientific textbook projection map.
Becoming something impossible to traverse even for expert woodsmen or a genius of a certain variety that is imbued with Zoom Zoom PED's, just enough red wine, or some self appointed enlightenment that "never failed me before"
Ignoring all traces of anxiety, disregarding inhibition, conquering every whim and mental roadblock desperately vying for success and representation as SOMEone instead of everyone else who writes in blue ink and drinks their coffee black and hides in plain sight and doesnt care what other people think and watches primetime reality television programs and believes in Jesus Christ and chews with their mouths closed and keeps their finges clean.

The Path
remains forever unbeaten
how far we get along it is our legacy that no one ever gave a **** about until we wrote about it.

On the occasion of downpour and discomfort
I've a raincoat fit for me.
You couldn't imagine it's a person
or embodiment of admirability.

Disguised as a Magpie feathered shirt
it is a wonder so many can see
and pick apart its components with assertion
ending its existence so effortlessly.

With the arrival of mind manufactured hurt
unlike any I've ever seen
I begin to imagine the immersion of my spirit in credibility.

I can't think,
Poems lack a certain tragedy.
My black ink
Blots while the person laughs at me.
The masks seize
As this gets worse and saddens me.
And lastly,
A Trance bleeds the curse so magically.

It's trapping me.

I want to go back home.
we live in boxes.
We stare at boxes.
We exit boxes get into moving boxes that deliver us to a different box.
Where we ship boxes.
We look through windows as if they were paintings.
I've been in a box whose windows literally were paintings.
We **** ourselves over pieces of paper.
Even the precious metals are overlooked for this paper.
My body hurts,
I'm confused.
It's like I'm lost in my own box
And I want to go back home.