As the crimson sun sets upon her cyanic eyes,
I'm lost to the reverberations of entropy they incite,
Were if not for these amalgamations of indigo illuming its disguise,
Forevermore would this ethereal dalliance imbue into the night.

Birds of a feather,
birds of prey,
equal or lesser,
today is your day.

They say he's a king,
With a virtuous command,
But there's greed in his heart,
Where once lived love for his land,

Yet I see through his lies,
Concealed behind the crown,
They've led me to despise,
The man on the throne,

Still I long to see,
The rapport once shared with me,
For what must it cost,
To regain the brother I've lost.

Today I dreamt of last June,
But was awoken into December,
Despite my attempts to impugn,
The memory of you I still remember.

When I look to you I see an opalescence,
A kaleidoscopic display of luminescence,
There are just two accounts that capture this very essence,
Your beauty and the peacock's feathering iridescence.

This' heart's a jukebox
Darling buds of may
If you love him
Clap your hands
If you know you hate him too
You love him
Clap your hands
If you can't get enough
There'll nothing left share
If you don't love him
Then dump him
If you can, Polly...

Polly (The Poem)

Love can be annoying
But, annoying can be lovely
Women
You are beautiful
Look at a mirror
Life can only be understood backwards, but it must be lived forwards. That's a true reflection.