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Reece Jan 25
The voice that’s rarely heard,
Not outspoken,
Or outgoing enough.
The one who watches the clock,
To see the seconds turn to minutes,
To hours, to days,
Before you know it a year’s gone by.

I have a few things to get off my chest,
Perhaps it would be best.

There are people whose voice is loud,
You can tell them out of the crowd.
Some commanding, others obnoxious,
Others are demanding, and some are boisterous.
I never understood the appeal.
But if one thing is clear,
It’s that they’re confident,
For better or worse,
I just hope they aren’t full of themselves.
As per most things,
Advantageous in moderation.
Too much noise can drive one insane.
But there are highlights too,
Most leaders tend to be loud,
And I think they should.

Then there are people like me,
Quiet, but not dead silent.
Some call us mysteries,
Others find an opportunity to batter someone,
Who they know won’t talk back.
The quiet ones can be seen as arrogant,
Some think we say we’re better in every way,
Far from the truth.
Most of the time when I’m quiet,
It’s because I have nothing to say.
Or I have but I don’t think it’s important.
Don’t understand,
How some say whatever crosses their minds.
Mine bounces off the walls,
Filled with dashing, flashing thoughts.
“Are they judging me?”
“Do they even care at all?”
“What are they thinking about?”
“Am I making a fool of myself?”
“Can I connect with anyone else?”
These thoughts and more,
Rattle on despite no encore.

Apathy’s a dangerous thing,
Not caring or feeling anything.
Sometimes that’s why I don’t speak.
Wandering,
In endless wondering…
Wanderlust,
But where to go?

While most, state their opinions aloud.
I don’t.
Why risk the chance of mockery,
If you don’t have to?
People can be cruel,
Crueler than they realize,
At the time.
I keep my opinions in my head,
Where they fit best.

Sometimes I wonder:
Do people think about what they say,
Before they say it?
Sometimes it feels like,
They just preach what’s on their mind,
Without a thought behind their eyes.
They want to be seen,
To shine,
They want to be heard,
In the Broadway spotlights.
And those two desires,
Trump mostly everything else,
And add fuel to their fire,
Causing them to burn even brighter.

I take my thoughts,
To the page,
Where it’s quiet,
And all my thoughts can flow freely,
Without any pesky blockages.
How freeing,
Yet, how fleeting.

I’ve said what I wanted to say.
Shouted as loud as I could,
Through the noisy maelstrom.
I hope you heard,
What this silent voice had,
Bouncing in his brain…
Reece Jan 20
Four distinct seasons,
Each with their own beauty,
Ambiance, weather, and color,
All for us to enjoy.

I must admit,
Winter’s my favorite.
I like feeling cold,
Not freezing cold,
But cold enough so that when you encompass yourself with blankets,
You feel the comforting warmth of home.
I love the look of the planet,
Underneath a blanket of snow,
The smoothness of the white,
Prettier at night.
The snow as it falls,
Gorgeous as well,
Everywhere you look,
A painting could be painted,
And the beauty would be upheld.
Snowmen on the lawns,
The festive season,
What’s not to love?
Hot chocolate by a fire,
Tales of reindeer flying high in the sky,
All these reasons are why,
Winter’s my favorite.

Followed close behind in both timing and rank,
Springtime.
The weather looks nicer,
The flowers bloom once more,
The rain may seem inconvenient,
But it’s something to be thankful for.
The pitter-patter on my window at night,
Makes me feel,
For a moment,
That everything’s alright.
Don’t forget the flowers,
Of many shades of colors,
How I look forward,
To when the Indian Paintbrushes grow.
Sunflowers,
Irises,
Roses,
Daisies,
And all the others,
Makes the season more special,
Nature’s a wondrous thing.

Now comes the one I least adore,
But still, I know,
It has its strengths.
Summertime,
Is my least favorite.
I’ve never liked the heat,
Especially when it exceeds a hundred degrees,
That’s a bit excessive to me.
It’s the time,
To hit the beach,
To be at peace,
I can practically hear the waves.
Vacations typically wait till this time of year.
Fireworks,
In America,
The booms,
Something to behold.
The weather,
While not ideal for me,
Is still wondrous to see.
Maybe in my later years,
I’ll appreciate the beauty of summer.

Last but not least,
Fall or autumn is third on the list.
Things cool down,
Leaves fall down,
From their trees.
Reds,
Oranges,
Yellows,
And browns,
Litter the grown,
Entrancing the eyes.
They’re something to see,
But not worth to speed.
The crunch beneath your feet,
The air blows deep through the trees.
Halloween,
And the Thanksgiving feast.
Bliss at the finest degree.



The Earth isn’t the only thing,
That goes through seasons,
Life does the same.
Some seasons are dark,
Without a light in sight,
But it’s there,
It’s always there.
Other seasons a filled with joy,
Take those in,
Enjoy the moment,
Because for better or worse,
Like the seasons of the Earth,
It always comes to pass.
Reece Jan 15
To those who complain about the mundane,
It’s just your paradigm changing your fate.
I hope you realize before it’s too late,
That being miserable isn’t a fun game.

Don’t you understand that the mundane,
Will be most of your existence,
Not every day,
Is filled with endless enjoyment and stimulus.
Some days are just meh,
That’s how the game is played.
It’s such a waste of your breath,
To complain.

“I’m tired!”
So am I.
Of listening to your endless whining,
About how today’s the worst day of your life.
You’ll survive.
I swear,
You’ll be fine.
Your complaining is so degrading,
And depriving me of life.

“I don’t want to be here!”
Neither do I.
I don’t want to listen to you speak one more time.
To hear another ungrateful leave your mind.
Do you not realize how lucky you are to be alive?
Breathe, take it in,
Just don’t make me sit through it again.

“I’m bored!”
That’s good!
You’ll learn that sometimes things aren’t always as interesting,
As you think they should.
Why does the world have to entertain you?
Why can’t you just be satisfied?
Why must you spiel your discontentment?
I’ve found that can lead to resentment…

Don’t you see that the mundane,
Can be beautiful in its own way?
Those days where you have no plans,
Whatever happens happens,
And that’s okay.
The simple days,
Where things don’t feel so complicated,
Or frustrating,
Yet you find a way to keep complaining!

It makes me feel like I’m going crazy!
If you can’t beat them, join them.
But if I did,
I would go against the theme of this poem.
Complaining is such a waste of words,
And time.
Is it worth it,
To waste it,
On that?
I’d say that it isn’t.

Count your blessings.
If you can’t think of anything,
Then you better think harder.
There’s always something,
That anyone can be thankful for.
It’s feels a lot more gratifying,
Than just incessant complaining.
I’ve got my mom and my dad,
The ones who make sure my head’s ******* on just right,
Who keep me in the fight.

Don’t you ever get tired,
Of saying the same old things?
Of complaining,
About what everyone already thinks?
Are you that unoriginal,
Uninspired, and bland,
That you can’t see the beauty,
In your hands?

I hope you get a good night’s sleep,
You’ll need it,
When you find that tomorrow’s just today,
With a different name.
And I know,
You’ll complain again,
To your friends,
And they’ll do the same.
I hope when you’re older,
You’ll see,
That this life is what you make it.
No one said it was easy,
So we have to keep pushing through it.
Your complaining adds nothing,
But fuel to the fire,
If only you could see it,
If you weren’t blinded by your ire.

To those who complain about the mundane,
I know that some days,
May be filled with hate,
Or pain,
But it’s not a good aim,
To wish your life away.
Reece Jan 9
People are the strangest things
This world has ever seen.
Complicated to a fault,
More than any other living being.
Think of relationships,
The way people act towards each other,
Whether platonic or romantic,
Still so complicated.

I often wonder,
What makes a friend?
So I’ve compiled a list of attributes,
I’d consider favorable.
In an attempt,
To answer this question.

A friend should be someone who cares for you,
Someone who is mutually interested in you,
Who you are, and what you do,
And long to see you grow.
A friend should understand you,
And not judge, but be compassionate.
Is that too much to ask?
A friend should love you unconditionally,
Not necessarily romantically,
For just being you.

A friend shouldn’t make you feel ignored,
Alone, or insignificant.
Friendships shouldn’t tear at the slightest push of buttons,
Of events that occurred,
Years and years ago.
Friends shouldn’t say crude things that they know aren’t true,
To demean, or hurt,
The ones they’re supposed to care about.
A friend shouldn’t use or abuse,
Physically or emotionally,
That’s for enemies.

I watch people socialize,
Mainly the ones who are considered “popular” in my eyes.
I wonder,
What do they have that I’m missing?
I see them laugh, and smile with their friends,
And wonder,
Do they care about me like this?
Is there something wrong with me?
Did I do something wrong?
How did things change so quickly?
Was it something I didn’t see?

Watching the ship burn to the waters.
The captain doesn't run away.
The ones that made me laugh,
The ones I missed over summer vacation.
Did they ever think of me?
The ones I never fitted in with,
Things never clicked.
I always felt awkward and out of place.
Am I just overthinking?
Did all this time mean anything at all?
Was it a waste,
Was it a loss?
Did we ever form a connection,
Or was it just superstition?

My mother told me that throughout high school,
She didn’t really have any friends at all.
I don’t know how she made it,
If it was me,
I know I wouldn’t.
I would feel too alone.
Though looking at it,
Perhaps I’m in the same boat.

I remember a friend I had back in first grade.
The thing that makes him so memorable to me,
Is the fact that he would lie to my face,
So effortlessly,
And I partly believed,
Thank goodness he left by second grade.

If you’ve read “My Former Friend,”
You know about a relationship,
I relished when it ended.
It wasn’t a friendship,
But a parasitic relationship.
So much discontentment,
So much resentment.
The past is the past so it’s time to move past.
If there’s anything I learned of value,
Is that some people abuse for their own benefit,
A lesson I’d have to learn at some point.

I sense a sense of strain amongst my friends.
Things feel more awkward than they ever have before.
Two and a half more years to go.
Would I change some things, if I could do it all again?
Yes.
Could things be worse than what I’m currently experiencing?
Yes.
Does that make it any easier?
No.

It’s hard watching a good thing come to an end,
Especially when it was a large fraction of your childhood.
But naivete is gone,
I’ll see it like it is,
Whether I like it or not,
It’s a sinking ship.
I’ll enjoy what time I have left,
And ride it out till the end.

A friend shouldn’t run away,
And leave you behind,
Without a warning,
Or something to clear your mind.
Just tell me that we’re done,
That you’ve moved on,
So I can move on.

Here we are,
2025.
Feels weird to say,
But it’s here to stay.
Looking at the bigger picture,
I see,
That I don’t think a single person gets me.
Perhaps, I set my expectations too high,
Perhaps frivolous tomfoolery is the norm.
I’m more of the “get things done” kind of guy.
Perhaps, I’m too hard to get to know,
Perhaps, the journey’s not worth the reward.
All people see is a character that’s mundane,
Yet hidden in the pages,
Is a creative brain,
That, to most people,
Won’t see the light of day.
I think there’s one,
Maybe two,
That’s it.
The rest I’m not sure about,
They have their friends, who occupy their time.
Yet, it’s not that I don’t want to know them,
It’s that I’m scared,
To be rejected,
In the gutter.
So, like my mother did,
All those years ago,
I’ll sit back,
And watch the world turn,
On my own.
And wonder,
If out there,
Somewhere,
There’s people who’ll care for me,
The way I wish they would.
According to probability,
It’s nearly a statistical certainty.

A friend should make you feel heard,
And loved.
So that you don’t have to write a long poem,
About what you long for.
Reece Dec 2024
Words,
How powerful and distinguished they can be,
But, when in the hands of the enemy,
Become slimy, coarse, static and sloppy.
The old saying goes:
“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.”
I believe that’s not the truth,
And that words can leave bruises,
Break hearts, and leave scars,
Corrode and erode,
Till there’s nothing but calamity.

How quick one is to insult another,
With not a thought on the consequences of speech.
Is it purely ignorance?
Or a lack of decency?
Morality’s gone out the window,
Only hatred remains,
Or at least that’s all it seems,
Few eyes in the overwhelming hurricane.
What happened to kindness?
What happened to peace on earth?
It seems to me, everywhere you look,
A new conflict has emerged.

Language can be so beautiful,
When presented to people who are good.
Not the ones who say the same crude words,
Over and over,
I won’t spell them out,
For they’re repulsive.
Have they little shame?
Or perhaps they don’t care?
Who they cut with their words,
As they fly through the air.
It’s sad when to insult seems standard,
And being kind is an extraordinary phenomenon.
It makes me wonder,
What planet am I living on?

My favorite,
Which means I hate it,
Is when people say a certain two words.
“**** yourself…”
How could they be so cruel!?
To wish the end of someone else’s life!
They say it so thoughtlessly,
Without a care in their ignorant, daft minds!
But they’re joking so that makes it okay!?
I think they forget that a joke is supposed to be funny!
What’s funny about wishing for somebody to die?
What sociopathic, narcissistic person,
Thinks that’s funny?
What if who they said it to was suffering?
What if what they said,
Confirmed every sickening, tragic thought,
In their head?
What if that following night,
They took the *****’s advice,
And didn’t show up at school the next day?
Would they feel ashamed?
Or would they even cry?
At the fact that their words,
Caused someone to die?

I’m not saying I’m perfect,
Farthest from it.
But I am careful to choose my words,
Before they leave my head.
Let me tell you a few truths.
Not every opinion you have needs to be shared.
Not every thought you have needs to be said.
Not every observation about someone else needs to be uttered.
Not every harsh comment needs to be spoken.
Some things are best left unsaid.
Sometimes it’s best to just stay silent.
Sometimes it’s best to remain quiet.
Because your words are weapons,
Your words are swords.
Wield them wisely,
Or are you unworthy?
To use this language,
So complex and enigmatic.

Words,
Can mean the difference between life and death,
Joy and chaos,
Love and hate,
Words carry a lot of weight.
Think about what you say,
Before those thoughts escape your brain,
Please,
The last thing we need,
Is more hate in this life.
Reece Nov 2024
I’ve got a few more things to say,
More thoughts have fluttered into my brain,
And even if it may be slightly trite,
I’m going to give you another piece of my mind.

How I adore the sound of rain.
Pitter-patter,
On my window at night.
However, when the rain gets on me,
I become the Wicked Witch of The West,
And start to melt.
The rain relaxes me,
Puts my ever-sprinting mind at ease.
Snuggled underneath the covers,
In my comfy bed,
Shows that even on the stormy nights,
There’s something to be thankful for.

My music taste has evolved,
As most everything else has,
I guess it was inevitable,
To broaden my horizons.
I was raised on Reba,
My mother made sure of that.
I’ll give credit where it’s due,
She’s a stunning singer,
And her songs touch the heart,
But I’ve found another,
Who, for me,
Fans the same spark.
His name is Alec Benjamin,
I’ve quoted his song in a poem once before,
Rarely can you find a musician,
Where every song you adore.
I haven’t heard every piece of art he’s created,
But from what I’ve heard,
They’re very relatable, meaningful songs,
Which are filled with impactful words.
He’s an amazing lyricist,
Who, to my knowledge, writes all his own songs,
Here’s a sample,
From a track titled “Hipocrite,”
Yes, titled just like that.

“It's hip to be a hipocrite, well, that's how it goes
Saying and portraying things, but only for show
They talk, throw rocks
Living in a mansion that they made out of glass
Always throwing tantrums, always getting a pass
All talk, they don't stop.”
And here’s the chorus:
“All these pompous fools,
With their broken rules,
And their noses in the air,
Keep pretending that they care.
All these stubborn mules,
Went to fancy schools,
But the only thing they learned to do is talk.”

Some of the music I like,
Doesn’t even have any lyrics at all.
Just a light somber melody,
To take me to serenity.
It’s in those moments,
Where my mind is clear,
That I treasure,
All I hold dear.

As much as I fear the future,
And which direction, of the countless, it could go.
I’d be lying if I said,
I wasn’t curious to see where it goes.
Where I’ll be,
Ten,
Twenty,
Thirty years from now,
Nobody knows.
On the bucket list,
Is to be invited onto a talk show.
Fate is uncertain,
That’s precisely why I fear it,
Yet, there’s a beauty to the undetermined.
Funny how that is.

I’m very impatient,
That’s a negative trait I’ll admit,
However, I understand,
That patience has its benefits.
Impulsivity leads to mistakes,
While patience leads to mastery.
Patience leads to understanding,
While impetuousness leads to travesty.
Waiting makes me feel,
That fleeting time is wasting,
We don’t have forever,
And our presence is always fading.
Yet, breathing in and out,
And taking a moment to rest,
Reconfigure, reassess,
Is the best form of reconciliation,
The body can get.

Another poem written,
A set of words said.
Another view of the world,
Hidden in my head.
Another random word,
To help me rhyme.
Another,
Piece of my mind.
Consider this a sequel to "A Piece of My Mind."
Reece Nov 2024
I remember you,
And I know you remember me.
At least, I bet you do,
You were obsessed with me before.

When we were younger,
I thought you were quite the character.
I thought you were a nice person,
Little did I know what I was in for.

It started off small,
You would tell me how discontent you were.
I would try to cheer you up,
To no avail.
You would say that you hated yourself,
I would give you reasons that you were amazing.
We agreed to disagree.
I thought this would be temporary,
I thought it was a phase,
Yet, to my dismay,
It set the stage,
For the rest of the First through Seventh grades.

I would give you everything,
My heart and my ears,
For you just to complain,
About your pain,
Amidst the breaking of my heart.

I can’t remember what year it was,
When you showed me your scars.
When I saw what you would do to yourself,
It made me go numb.
Reality kicked in,
My mind started racing,
I was speechless,
I didn’t know what to say.

Your discontentment,
Turned into resentment,
For your life,
All you could tell me,
Every day,
Was how much you wanted to leave it all behind.
I would plead,
I would beg,
Give you reasons to hold on.
I made the mistake,
Of giving you my heart.
I would go home every night,
Afraid for your safety,
Stay up late and cry,
Wondering if you’d be back at school tomorrow.
Or if you had done what you said,
You’d do…

I started to wonder.
Was this life worth living,
If some people were so determined to throw it away?
Was it worth climbing the mountain,
And experiencing all the pain?
Is the view from the top worth the journey?
Is the hike worth the effort to walk?
I asked myself countless times,
And I came to the conclusion that I,
Think it is.

Seven years,
That’s how long I listened.
How long I let you pull me down,
With your depression.
I didn’t know how to help you,
But I just wanted you to be okay.
You said you cared about me too,
But I don’t think you did.

You began to rub off on me,
The colors had faded to a melancholic gray,
Apathy started to materialize,
And it hasn’t gone away.
You dug us both a hole,
And tried to bury us alive.
I let you have a hold on me,
The biggest mistake of my life.

One day in seventh grade,
You nearly got your wish,
I don’t know all the details,
Ignorance is bliss.
I was broken that night,
Wondering if I,
Could have done more,
Didn’t do enough,
Did I do what’s right?
Or was I hurting us both?
This wasn’t what I wanted when I met you,
All those years ago,
Being around you for seven years,
Was taking its toll.

I snapped,
I broke,
I couldn’t take it anymore.
I cried,
I prayed,
Like I had done those seven years before.
I thought,
I decided,
That it would be best.
If I,
Stepped back,
I couldn’t listen to any more discontentment.

Eight grade was hard,
I didn’t want to push you away,
But I couldn’t stand worrying,
Every single day.
I had to break the chains,
That tethered us together,
I felt like the bad guy,
But sometimes,
Even the villain of the story is justified.
It hurt my soul,
To let you go,
Because I cared,
About you.
You were my friend,
But in the end,
I don’t think it was reciprocated.
I think all I was to you was an ear,
To tell all your thoughts,
To someone willing to hear,
And while that’s fine,
I think you forgot,
That I have a life,
As well.

Ninth, high school began,
And you weren’t there,
Or at least I shut you out,
So I didn’t notice.
Ninth, was the greatest year of school,
In my life,
I felt joy,
I felt at peace,
But most of all,
I felt free.

I hope you’re doing well,
Better than you were.
However, I don’t think I want to talk with you again.
You hurt me,
You cut me deep,
I’m still repairing,
The damage you left me.
I opened my heart to you,
And you brought a hurricane,
You dug us both a hole,
And you left me to fend for myself.
I don’t know,
If I’ll ever escape,
But I’ll dig a tunnel,
And find my way.
There’s always a light,
And I believe I’ll find it,
And bask in its rays.

I wish you the best,
But I’m saying goodbye one last time.
If I’m to move on,
I have to leave you behind.
I’ll put you on a boat,
And push you off into the ocean,
And I’ll hope,
That you too find your way.
I’ll remember your name,
Etched in my brain.
I just had a few things left to say,
A few more thoughts rattling in my brain,
Even though it may have seemed impolite,
I had to give you a piece of my mind.

I remember how I used to wonder.
Was this life worth living,
If some people were so determined to throw it away?
Was it worth climbing the mountain,
And experiencing all the pain?
Is the view from the top worth the journey?
Is the hike worth the effort to walk?
I asked myself countless times,
And I still conclude,
That I,
Think it is.

Farewell,
My former friend.
This is a deep one. I don't really want to go into all of the backstory, and I think that the poem explains itself pretty well. I'm just glad to move on. This is my physical and metaphorical goodbye to this person.
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