Genuine, Soft
Mysterious,
Drop Dead

Hair Today
Gone Tommorrow
The Comb Remains.

I love to write poetry
But I’m afraid
I’m afraid of what they’ll think
I’m afraid they’ll think my poetry will **** because of my age
But I’m most afraid of people I know reading my poems
Because then they might see through my walls
Into my broken
Shattered
Messed-up
Crazy life
I don’t want anyone to worry about me
Or to try and protect me
Or fight my battles
Because that’s what I’m supposed to do for them
I’m suppose to worry about others
And shove my problems away
I’m supposed to protect others
And never worry about my pain
I’m supposed to help win their wars
Because I’m already losing my own

Passages to your Soul....
Complete and Whole....
Firm and Delicate...
Air Resonate....
Randomly Flare....
Beautifully I Swear.  
Lost in that Maze.
Desires Raise.
Trapped Infinitely.

Beautiful Car
Handsome Tyres.
We  went very Far.  
Nails on the Road.
I Explode.
Replaced within No Time.
As if  I committed a Crime.
She goes away.  
Leaving me all alone on the Highway.

Nature Nature
My True Teacher.
Gives me all what I want to know.
Makes me happy when I am low.  
From Almost  Everything I see
From the Sky to the Tree.  
Teaches me Endlessly.
If only we all  could truly See
What Nature teaches you and Me.