She is in pain.
All she can hear is the wails of siren songs.
She is locked in her room, all alone.
Her eyes as bright and dark as the Milky Way.

She blasts the radio so the sky can hear it.
We didn't start the fire, but we should fear it.
She loved a guy,
He didn't love her back.
She laid on her bed and had a heart attack.
She threw her glasses at the wall,
Her hair as curly and frazzled as her.
She tried to think of one bad thing about him,
But her mind was just a blur.
She was heartbroken.

He is in denial.
He lays awake at night, thinking about what he had done.
He had done the right thing.
Just think.
He ran his fingers through his golden blonde hair and tears brimmed his ocean blue eyes.
He hadn't done what his heart wanted,
For it was in disguise.
He was heartbroken.

Two Different Points of View
One Outcome

although age in and of itself
does not declare experience
or the depth of knowledge one has gained
and in my opinion is silly for anyone
to think otherwise
I'm always told
"your so wise for one so young."
Or
"oh I remember what it was like to be 19
and think you know the world."
Yet what they refuse to acknowledge
is that in 19 short years,
I may have experienced both
horrors and beauty
that they have yet to dream let alone see.
Who is to say that age is a boundary of the mind?
That inexperience creates an age divide?
Who are they to claim that we would be consumed
when they have yet to wander in our beaten old shoes?
Who are they to judge me of a story
they have yet to hear?
All becuse they refuse to lend an ear?

When I come to the world
the work comes with me
but the lazy world is laughing out loud
and ignoring the work!

When lazy people realize their mistakes
and turn to work
I then sit on their head!

When I'm getting ready to leave this world
the people are frustrated at work
but I'm covered by this evening!

When the people are next to me
and they regret their laziness
at that time, I ended up in darkness!

My ever chatty mouth,
Shuts at this reflective discovery often,
There are Thoughts,
In my Mindy heart,
Lingering, pleading
Dying to be penned.

Sitting beneath a tree,
Whose leaves shimmer in red, golden,
Smiling at me often,
I wonder, I ponder
The magic amidst then.

The mind,
Engrossed, imbibed
On what may happen.
There's a thoughty fight happening,
I can't speak much  of then.

I listen, I wonder,
Which one to listen,
As both are compelling
With a fact in them _

There's a voice inside,
That nobody, but myself listens
Crying, compelling, inspiring
Telling, teaching me so much often.

It moves,
It stuns,
It giggles often,
But oh that voice,
Is a loud, loud voice
That Makes the mouth
Engrossed & silenced._