Optimism can be,
Very much fulfilling, or,
Exhaustingly bland.

Pessimism makes a,
Darkened cloud cover up the,
Shining, blinding Sun.

Cynicism blurs the,
Line between friend or foe 'cause,
Everyone’s corrupt.

Altruism means that,
I should help others without,
Pondering the cost.

Inside the insane asylum,
That I go to five days a week.
Straightjacket tight,
I can barely breathe.
Listening to all the inmates,
Contemplating all their mistakes,
I can’t even sleep.
They continuously repeat,
The same lines over and over again.
When is my reprieve?
Better be soon, before my mind turns to a ruin.
“Blah, blah, blah.”
That’s all I hear.
Their voices, drowning out,
Every other peaceful sound.
“Blah, blah, blah, blah.”
I feel the blood flow from my ears,
As I look to the ground,
And fade into the background.
Can’t believe I still have a couple years.
When I break free, will my fears control me?
Sometimes it feels like I’m surrounded by,
Sheep that would just follow the crowd,
Till they died.
Am I going crazy…?
Or is it just all hyperbole…?

I always find it funny,
How some people relish judging,
Others, when their own lives aren’t,
Perfectly pristine.
Would it be so hard,
To keep those thoughts within?
Instead of putting another down,
With foolish whims.
Who are you to decree,
What’s morally okay,
Or what’s socially acceptable,
When you’re broken in your own way?
Stay in your bubble,
Sometimes it’ll keep you out of trouble.
If your life is a mess,
Then I don’t need you telling me how to live mine!
But, I digress…

There’s nothing that gets me more excited,
Then hearing we’re eating,
Grandma’s biscuits this afternoon.
Whether morning, evening, or night,
I’ll eat them at any time.

So many stories,
Of a long life,
I can barely picture.
Ones filled with joy,
Humor,
Pain,
And grief.
How I delight,
To hear her tales,
Whether tall or not.

Every year,
She visits her sister,
Out in Michigan,
And they go on a trip,
To Arizona.
If I was her age,
I wouldn’t want to move,
I see the pain,
Behind her smile.
I know, though,
As long as she can,
She’ll visit her sister,
In Michigan.

During the summer,
When things seem to slow,
She’s there with activities,
To mellow out the flow.
Yet sometimes, I admit,
I complain and I groan,
A foolish mistake,
The effects not yet shown…

We’ve been through a lot,
She’s seen a lot more than I,
Yet we share that connection,
That connection,
Of family tied so tight.

One of her sons,
Fell in a hole,
And picked up a bottle,
And sold his soul.
I know it wasn’t my fault,
And out of my control,
Yet the way I reacted,
To his actions,
Haunts my soul.
Where he used to reside,
Gutted and reformed,
Filled with fabric,
Waiting to be used.
Sometimes I walk into that room,
To remember…

Even when she’s hurting,
And she can barely walk,
She’ll fix up a supper,
Before you can stop her.
Her stubbornness incalculable,
A trait passed to my mom,
And my brother,
And probably me,
I can’t deny,
Sometimes she worries me.

I’ve already witnessed the end,
On my dad’s side,
The lots, eighteen in all,
Or so I thought.
My neighbors to the right,
Shield your eyes…

I don’t know if I’ll ever be ready,
When she leaves us behind,
I’ve questioned myself,
Late at night.
I know it’s part of the process,
But that doesn’t numb the pain,
If anything, the inevitably,
Makes it twice as agonizing.
I don’t tell her my worries,
I don’t want to see her cry,
For if she does,
I will,
And we’ll both be a mess.

She’s read my stories,
I haven’t sent her a poem,
Scared, and nervous,
About this side of me.
The part kept hidden,
Until the clacking of keys,
Not a fear of acceptance,
But a fear of worrying.

So for now,
While she’s here,
My sweet,
Mommom,
I’ll enjoy,
Your biscuits,
And your sweet tea.
I’ll push the dark thoughts away,
We’ll cross that bridge someday,
But that day is not today,
So I’ll push the dark thoughts away.

Grandparents,
How special,
How precious,
And finite.
How I love mine…

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.

Waiting for the one,
Single perfect moment when I,
Finally, feel free.

When I breathe and it,
Feels like I am alive and,
Everything is fine.

When that moment comes,
Appreciation will spread,
Smiling happily.

I once was kidnapped by Dracula,
He took me to his castle in Transylvania,
Which, by the way, is in Romania,
In case you didn’t know.
He chained me to the wall,
Slapped me, cutting me with his claws,
Before he decided to withdraw,
And sit on his throne.
I said,
“I think there’s a misunderstanding between us.
This bad blood isn’t anything serious,
Sure, I was wrong for being too envious,
But, please, don’t do anything heinous.
I’ll apologize,
Just spare my life,
Is this quarrel worth a fight?
Let’s rationalize instead.”
Dracula laughed,
Lightning cracked,
Followed by a thunderclap,
As if the world were terrified.
He walked over and held my face,
Squeezing it tightly, causing me pain,
He smiled, showing off his bloodied fangs.
I started to cry.
He said,
“You think this is just bad blood,
Like when a loving couple breaks up?
You’re tempting me with that smell of strawberry,
And I’m fighting the urge to feed on your blood.
This isn’t some game you play,
You said some awful things,
But when I bite back, you claim an attack,
And suddenly I’m the one who’s deranged?”
He laughed,
I didn’t talk back.
He was right, I was wrong,
I had been all along.
And now I was face to face,
With the monster I created, due to my mistakes.

I have some penultimate words to say,
Some final thoughts to escape my brain,
So, for a final time,
I’ll give you a piece of my mind.

Sometimes the subtleties pass us by,
The simple things of daily life,
While we complain about the mundane,
We forget the blessings right in front of our eyes.
From the birds who sing in the trees,
To the blooming flowers, pollinated by the bees.
All of these,
Help us see how pretty life can be.

I’ve learned some lessons over this year,
Those lessons I’ll take to heart,
Like sometimes “friends” leave you behind,
And it’s okay to hurt, but not to break apart.
Most people follow the crowd,
And that’s fine with me,
I’ll follow my own path,
To be renowned.

I firmly believe that each life is a story,
One worth reading,
Good, bad, or ugly,
There’s a lesson to be learned,
And you can think critically,
As the pages are turned.
After all, no one wants to be forgotten,
Or perhaps, some do,
I find that a tragic fate,
True doom.

It’s time again,
To quote a song by Alec Benjamin,
This one being my favorite,
Titled “I’m Not A Cynic.”
“I’m not a cynic, but today’s just not my day,
I’ve tried to spin it about a thousand different ways,
But from every angle, oh, the outcome is the same,
I swear that I’m not a cynic; my glass just has no water in it today.”
This one holds dear to me,
Because sometimes my sky is gray,
That doesn’t mean I’m a downer,
It just depends on the day.
I know my mood is mine to control,
But faking is a poison.
It’s okay to let the emotions flow,
I find it a positive notion.

This year has been a journey,
Far more challenging than the last,
I started off in the clouds,
Now I’m stranded in the past.
Friends have moved on,
Or perhaps, I pushed them away.
Who knows who I’ll be,
Junior year, on the first day?
I know life is a bunch of doors,
But a problem arises,
If you’re not willing,
To take a step.
However, if everyone stood still,
Life would be rather boring,
Wouldn’t it?
So I’ll take a step onto the water,
Hoping I don’t fall through,
Praying I won’t fall through.
Then I’ll take another,
Perhaps, it’ll be easier,
Than the first.
Before I know it, I’ll be walking,
Then running, to sprinting,
Clinging desperately,
To anything that I can take with me.
I clasp my hands on the doorknob,
And open it with haste,
And step through with a smile,
Not regretting a thing.
Though bittersweet nostalgia,
Might try its best to blind,
I’ll make better memories,
To shield my watery eyes.
Years down the road,
Wherever I may be,
Hopefully I’d found,
Some sense of security.
I’ll look back with pride,
At my sixteen-year-old self,
And applaud my bravery,
To take the first step.

Near the end of April,
And sophomore year is nearly down the drain,
I think overall,
I’m in a better place.
Ups and downs littered the road,
But I swerved and curved,
And through these poems,
I lightened the load.
Another thing ends tonight,
Sitting here as I write,
The conclusion to the final,
The final piece of my mind.

Wherever the road may lead next,
No matter how far or how scary,
I’ll follow it and reflect,
And make it to my ending.

Ouroboros lived in a forest,
He could’ve been like anyone before us.
He lived his life filled with pride,
Masking plenty of issues on the inside.
Ouroboros always believed he was in the right,
Despite the many times he was on the wrong side,
He lived his life filled with pride.
A constant cycle,
In the shape of a circle.
He never learned from his mistakes,
He just brushed them off onto another day,
His friends and family wished he would change,
But he remained the same.
Ouroboros lived in a forest,
He convinced himself that it wasn’t due to his poor choices.
He could’ve been like anyone before us,
Poor Ouroboros.
A constant cycle of believing you're constantly in the right,
A never-ending circle consistently spinning because of pride.
Is it worth it to throw everything on the line,
Just because you can’t accept that your side,
Of the issue isn’t the only one on people’s minds?
Poor Ouroboros,
A somber chorus,
And the poor forest can’t ignore his cries.
All this strife due to pride.

Sometimes when the world feels too bilow,
I cover up my ears.
I fade into the shadows,
And wipe my dripping tears.
Nothing ever seems to be policanary,
Always moving further on,
With no destination…
Tune out the jabberwocky.
Ignore the noise.
Maybe I’m a crybaby,
Or am I poised?
Listening to all the shouting,
Drowning in all the loudness,
Shuddering at my plonious thoughts,
That fuel my fears.
What am I to do?
I must continue,
To push through,
This kilomuny, trepidary,
Oligarny, relinbary,
Foolish jabberwocky.

I like simplicity,
I adore routines,
So that I can predict what happens next,
So that it’s guaranteed.
Life doesn’t work that way,
The wheels of fate,
Bound and determined to make me afraid,
And ruin my plans.
I start to panic,
And go manic,
When things change from the normal.
I wish to disappear,
And return,
When things are back to normal.
It’s a habit,
Hard to break it,
But I’m working on it,
To not panic,
And go manic,
When the routine breaks in two.
It’s a journey,
With the ending,
Nowhere in sight.
I’ll keep trying,
And defying,
The odds,
To make things right.
Routine is my friend,
And my enemy,
Bound,
For eternity.

People can be pure,
They can be kind,
Or narcissistic,
And blind,
To pain,
And strife.
They can betray you,
And twist the knife.
People can be empathetic,
Hold you close.
Be there for you,
When you need it the most,
Or break your heart,
Snap it in two,
Lie and say they’re sorry,
Like they always do.
They can nurture,
They can praise,
Or they can hurt,
And manipulate,
Depends on the person,
And their heart,
Where they are,
And where they started from.
People are people,
That’s who we are,
Imperfectly perfect,
Gazing at the stars,
Wondering our purpose,
Wondering the worth of this.
Not everyone is evil,
Not everyone is kind,
People are people,
All of the time…

Such a simple thorn,
Suffocating my nose and,
Clogging up my brain.

When Fern replaced Jack,
There was no turning back.
It felt like an attack,
And then the friendship cracked.
As the people chose their factions,
And Jack found himself alone,
He came to the conclusion,
Breaking free from his delusion,
That the only person’s word that he could count on was his own.

It happened rather fast,
A single moment passed.
A new transfer student,
Felt that he needed to be included.
He didn’t want to be alone,
So he found the nearest friend group,
And hoped they’d take him as their own.

He walked to the group,
Who were trapped in their coops,
Scrolling through their tombs,
Not having anything to say.
Fern cleared his throat,
His anxiety was flying high.
As he stuttered,
“H-h-hi-hi.”

The group was surprised, someone new had bothered,
To approach them,
Especially someone so nervous.
They pondered,
What his ulterior motive was,
As they looked him up and down.
Fern frowned.
Were they judging him?
His hands shook,
As sweat trickled to the ground.
Eventually, Jack got up,
Took his hand and shook it.
“I’m Jack!”
The moment,
That Jack wished he could take back.

Freshman year went on,
And nothing consequential changed.
Fern grew closer to the group,
As life kept turning the pages,
Of their stories,
Growing closer to the heartbreaking ending.

Sophomore year began,
And Jack noticed that things felt off,
Not oppressive,
But enough that he wanted it to stop.
Fern brought another friend along,
And Jack found himself sitting alone,
Fern’s friend just seemed more interesting,
Than Jack ever was.
Jack’s friends used to talk to him,
Then they didn’t.
Jack figured out right away,
That this was how it felt to be replaced.

So Jack went out of his way,
To avoid his “friends” every day.
If they didn’t care,
He wouldn’t let it tear down his sails.
It hurt,
But he knew he’d heal.
He’d leave them behind,
Clawing at his heels.

When Fern replaced Jack,
There was no turning back.
It felt like an attack,
And then the friendship cracked.
As the people chose their factions,
And Jack found himself alone,
He came to the conclusion,
Breaking free from his delusion,
That the only person’s word that he could count on was his own,
And that was okay!

There was an old cat lady,
Everyone thought she was crazy.
Who needs ten cats?
Didn’t care for her reasoning,
Too busy judging,
They didn’t care that,
Her husband had died,
And she was keeping his memory alive.

While the adults kept their distance,
The kids of the neighborhood were fascinated,
Especially the cat lovers,
Though the dog lovers were interested too.
She would sit on her front porch,
Smile and wave,
And on summer days,
Make the children lemonade.
She would tell them stories,
Of her adventures on this Earth,
Their imaginations running rampant,
From her descriptions.
They would listen,
To both her and the cats they would be petting,
And hear their purring.
Those were the happier times.

Over the years,
The old cat lady,
Grew even older,
And moved slower.
Yet she still sat on the porch,
Greeting the kids that walked by.
When they saw her smile,
Their worries and anxieties were left far behind.
Her lemonade, divine,
Along with her key lime pie,
Dining to die for.

She remembered each child’s name,
And would even give the gifts for Christmas,
She didn’t want to see them sad,
They were just kids,
And life hadn’t started yet,
For them.

She rocked on her rocking chair,
Cats sitting everywhere,
Purring contently,
As was the old cat lady,
Enjoying every moment,
Though her lover was long gone,
She found a new purpose,
And her sorrows passed on.

The kids were now in high school,
Still visited every now and then,
To brief her on their lives,
How she valued that time.
They were all so different,
Each student was unique,
With their own special interests,
She prayed that they would succeed.
On Christmas Day,
They surprised the old cat lady,
With a gift from each of the former kids,
Scarfs and mittens,
Chocolates,
And blankets,
And even sweaters for the cats.
The old cat lady cried happy tears,
For the first time in her life.
She was content,
She felt alive.

Then as summer showed its face,
One blistering day,
The old cat lady,
Wasn’t rocking on her porch,
The cats weren’t purring on her lap.
There weren’t any sounds coming from the house,
The lights were off.
The students broke the front door down,
And searched the house.

They found her on her bed,
Surrounded by,
Her furry friends,
They were snuggling,
Wishing,
Their owner would awake,
But she was dead.
She had gone,
In her sleep,
Peacefully.
The students cried,
As they dialed,
The police,
They took her body away,
Much to her cats’ dismay.

The funeral was rough,
Adults not feeling bad enough,
For they had been too afraid,
To get to know the old cat lady.
The students cried,
And covered their eyes,
They couldn’t believe,
She had died.

The students would take turns,
Going to her humble abode,
To feed her cats,
Since nobody wanted them,
Not that they wanted to leave their home.
Yet, when they went inside,
With food in hand,
They were surprised,
To find,
The cat bowls filled with food,
And lemonade prepared.
She figured it was,
The least that she could do,
To ease their hurting minds…

Sometimes,
My mind,
Decides,
To scare me.
Feeling,
Indifferent,
All-consuming,
Apathy.

When I last addressed you,
I considered you a former friend,
And after much consideration,
And re-evaluation,
I’m putting this debate to an end.
You were not my friend,
You never were,
Despite what I said,
And what I believed,
You never cared for me.
I was just an ear,
That you used for many years,
Oh, you caused me many fears,
Deprived me of cheer.
Friends don’t do what you did,
So I’ll say again,
You were not my friend,
And you never were.

I walk the middle line,
Open to hearing both sides.
Things are rarely black and white,
That’s something you’ll find.
There’s always nuance,
Though people may deny,
Open your mind,
And realize,
That perhaps you aren’t always right.
So many petty fights,
For “rights”
Stirring up so much strife,
For what?
Why can’t we just live life?
I try,
To be open minded,
And walk the middle line.
Always scouring the desert for nuance,
And nuance I always find.

It’s hard watching something die,
And wither away.
Wondering if I could’ve changed,
Or was it fate?
But here we are,
Without the spark,
We once shared.
I’m letting out the guilt,
That I’ve built,
About a relationship that I can say,
Will never be repaired.

We used to click,
Now we don’t,
We used to talk,
Now we won’t.
I’d like to know where,
It all went wrong.
Was it me?
Was it you?
Was it going to happen all along?
If it was,
I wish,
I had been a better friend.
Then perhaps,
It would be,
A less painful end.

I start to question,
The foundation of our friendship,
If things broke apart so easily,
Without any indication.
Perhaps I misjudged the situation,
And ran off with unclear intentions,
I seem to do that best,
Unfortunately.

We’d known each other for years,
For it all to act like it was never there.
Did I make a mistake?
Did my expectations change?
Did I ruin everything?
Too afraid to ask,
So I’ll suffer in silence.

All of this confusion,
For something I don’t understand.
Some he said, she said, foolishness,
Was all that it took for our friendship to end?
And our friend group to shatter to pieces?
I thought we were close to each other,
That we care about one another,
I guess that was bitter delusion,
From a boy who was desperate for inclusion.

I never felt like I belonged,
We were always on,
Different wavelengths.
While you and the others would carry on,
I sat in silence,
Not knowing what to add,
Or what to say.
Questioning whether it would’ve mattered anyway.
I guess I was a fool.
I guess I shot myself in the foot,
So much that I can barely stand.
Never would I have dreamed,
That this was how things would end.

Was I too seclusive,
And too elusive?
Did I not listen enough?
Was I too much of a lonely punk?
Did I push you away?
Did I ruin everything?
Was I the reason things turned out this way,
Cause I changed?
Or was this preordained?
I know as we grow,
We change,
But why did it come so soon?
Last year we went to a movie,
A get-together I actually went to.
Yet, here I am now,
In the fallout,
Mourning what was broken down,
Surrounded by ashen-covered ground,
The smoke, all around.

Perhaps I’m just a fragile snowflake,
Lamenting on past mistakes,
That there’s no hope to change,
So why question it every day?
I can feel it fading,
And I know that I’m turning,
Into a stranger,
As the memories start growing hazier.
In ten years, I won’t remember your name,
And that’s what’s even stranger,
I thought we’d be friends for longer,
I guess that was wishful thinking.

Occasionally, we wave,
But we both know that’s not the same,
As the talks we’d have,
And the walks we walked together.
Now we’re both growing older,
As our chemistry starts reacting slower,
Till the entropy,
Fades into obscurity.
I wish I’d known sooner,
That things would turn out this way,
They’d be things I’d change.

So what’s left to say?
I’m standing at the graveside,
Crying and wondering,
What happened?
What madness,
Caused this?
I’ll put a bouquet,
On the grave,
And walk away,
As the days of our childhood fade.
Did I make the right choices?
Did I hurt you?
I’m sorry if I did,
I never meant to,
I just wanted to be your friend,
And I was for a time,
But that time’s passed,
Because nothing lasts.

I’m sorry,
And thank you,
For everything…

Sometimes it’s best,
To hold one’s tongue,
And take what you can get,
The alternative,
Is often worse.
Listen to their screams,
Their complaints,
As they say,
You’re the villain,
The hypocrite,
The one in the wrong.
Ignore the voices,
In your head,
That wonder if they’re right.
Sometimes it’s just best,
To tolerate insolence,
Rather than risk,
Corruption.

I’ve decided I’ve more things to say,
Thoughts wishing to escape my brain,
Whether it’s wrong or whether it’s right,
Prepare for a third piece of my mind.

Is it just me,
Or is communicating,
The hardest trial of life?
Living isn’t hard to me,
It’s coexisting that’s filled with strife.
Trying and failing to express ideas,
In a way that makes sense,
That they can comprehend,
These abstractions of thoughts in my head.

Talking is hard,
Especially when your mouth and your brain,
Aren’t on the same wavelength.
You think one thing,
And say another,
Leaving nothing but shame,
And discomfort.
Sometimes you say the wrong things,
At the wrong time,
To the wrong person,
Such is life.
They push you away,
You feel regret,
Part of the process,
You can’t take it back.
Apologies are just more words,
Added to the wound,
Actions are more powerful,
For better or for worse.

There’s something mesmerizing about the piano,
One of, if not, my favorite instruments.
The piano can make me happy,
Nostalgic,
Sad,
Or bittersweet,
All with a couple of keys.
How powerful when held,
Hearing the strings ring.
However,
I prefer the sad piano songs,
They do a perfect job,
Painting the scene,
Of bittersweet contentment.
The somber melodies make me long,
For those early childhood days,
The ones I rarely remember,
Basking in the sun’s rays.
How miraculous,
And part of what makes the human experience so grand,
How these feelings can be stirred,
From a few notes played,
On a grand piano.

To fit with the tradition,
I’ll quote a song by Alec Benjamin,
This one titled,
“The Plan,”
This is the chorus.
“What I wanted then isn’t what I’ve got now,
But if I did it again I wouldn’t change it anyhow,
I had a vision in my head,
I even wrote it all down,
The plan didn’t work but it all worked out.
The plan didn’t work but it all worked out.”
This song laments on how plans can change,
And paths we’re lead can be different than what we imagine,
Yet, even so,
The path we’re on,
Is the one we’re meant to walk
I agree…

Sometimes it’s difficult for me to distinguish,
Between an acquaintance and a friend.
Is it based on time known?
Or the quality of the relationship?
Or how well you click?
Or do I just overcomplicate it?
Sometimes I wish,
I thought less,
Because sometimes it seems,
Like a curse…

Here we are at the end,
Another poem at its conclusion,
My mind feels at ease,
Finally feeling included.
Only one more piece of my mind remains to be said,
The rest I’ll keep hidden in my head.
Farewell,
Until next time,
Where I unleash,
The final piece of my mind…

A boy’s wandering heart,
Dreaming and envisioning the perfect partner.
Hoping and praying they aren’t already taken.
Hiding and lying his true self,
Deflecting and protecting till he meets her.
Questioning and wondering if she’s even out there.
Breaking and crumbling under pressure,
Crying and trying to keep moving forward.
Thinking and finding that he was mistaken,
Learning and knowing that people can be heartless.
Waiting and standing back at the start.
Searching and scouring for the one,
Hoping and praying she hasn’t found someone.
Perhaps I need to leave my small pond,
Then I’ll find the one.

Letting go is just a way to cope,
With the truth that some things are just out of our control.
We can hope that things get better,
That it’s just some unpleasant weather,
But in the end, it’s best to just let it go.
No need to drown in “What ifs?”
A waste of mental resources.
Multitasking,
And balancing,
The grief,
While remembering,
What we had,
Seems like an eternity ago.
I’ll bury those times,
Beneath a tree,
And plant a rose.
In the end,
It feels freeing,
To just let it go.

My biggest critic,
The one who constantly,
Tells me I can’t do anything,
Ironically,
My biggest critic,
Is me.

Out of curiosity,
Does it ever seem to you,
Like you judge yourself,
More than anyone else would ever do?
Or is it just me?

There’s a shadow man,
Hidden in my mind,
I can’t make out his face,
And I wish that he would go away.
He whispers cruel things,
To keep my anxious head turning,
With meaningless observation,
Leading to condemnation,
Against myself.

“What makes you think you deserve to be heard?
What makes your words better than anyone who’s come before?
Do you believe people care about what they read?
You’re just farming for sympathy!”
I can’t ignore his cries or his lies.
Why, does he despise me so?
Isn’t your mind supposed to be your greatest asset,
And your friend,
Not one who prays that you fail,
And wishes your dreams end?

They say,
“Be yourself,”
Without understanding,
The whole weight of what that means.
Acceptance is a hard road,
Especially when it’s your pain and insecurities.
The shadow man takes me to the mirror,
Tells me,
“Look in the mirror and tell me what you see!”
I refuse and look down,
Making eye contact with the ground,
Because the last thing I want to see,
Is the mess staring back at me.
You see,
To truly be yourself,
You have to look your darkness in the eyes,
Admit your flaws,
And that you are who you despise.
Then,
And only then,
Can you ever hope the shadow man to spare you from his game.
Yet, I remain,
Too afraid,
To look in the mirror,
And stare in my eyes,
Realizing the fighting,
And calamity in my mind.

The shadow man shouts,
And belittles.
What else is he to do?
Chastisement,
How his lies sound so real.
When he whispers in my ear.
“You have no gifts,
You’re just a boy,
Who people pity,
That’s how you’ve got this far.
Don’t deny it or try to fight it,
We both know it to be true,
After all,
I am you,
And who knows us better than us?
I’m the demons,
The ones you hide behind your eyes.
You should talk less,
Hide your face,
No one needs to see that.
Close your eyes,
Stop your cries,
And accept that this is fate.
You aren’t sad!
You’re dramatic!
Quit whining!
Grow a spine!
What would people say about you if this was your last day alive…?”

I freeze,
I don’t know what to say.
He laughs.
Why does he laugh at me?
I cover my ears,
And try to think.
I have thoughts in my head,
But at that moment,
They all escape,
Leaving my mind blank.
I have no response,
Forced to endure his taunts.
Little bits of paper,
Pepper and pelt my face,
As a ruler,
Taps methodically on my head.
How much can one realistically take,
Before they break?
The Joker said,
“All it takes is one bad day…”

I lay in my bed at night,
The time,
3:45,
School will be here before you know it,
Another day,
In the legal form of a circus.
To my dismay,
The shadow man,
Shows his face,
Walks over to my bedside,
And whispers in my ear.
“Today’s your favorite day,
Monday,
The beginning of the chaos,
It’s hilarious!
Just a little food for thought,
Two full years remain,
Till your life changes,
Forever,
No going back,
As you watch time pass in front of your eyes.
Disgraceful,
You don’t have a plan,
No devotion to even start!
Where will you end up,
When things begin to fall apart?
You know time’s fading faster,
Yet, you’re standing still,
And it’s all because of your weak will.
You’ll go to school,
And wish you could disappear,
Just keep looking down,
It’s gotten us this far.
And if they talk to you,
Don’t say much,
Keep them all at arm’s length.
Who needs meaningful connections?
That’s for saps!”
I want to deny him,
And tell him that he’s wrong,
But he’s kept me safe this long.
In my bubble,
Floating overhead,
Watching people live their lives,
And have a good time.

How the shadow man loves to remind me,
Of when I should’ve talked more or less,
Smiled and finessed my way,
Through the conversation,
As graceful as a dying horse.
“Why do people talk to you?
Why do they waste their time on you?”
He whispers.

I’d like to say I’m a good person,
But the shadow man,
Would say something else,
And remind me of my former friend,
The one I couldn’t help.

Sometimes it feels like,
I’m just here,
Living to live,
Surviving to survive.
Without a purpose,
Without drive.
Like a fire,
Sometimes passion dies,
And waiting for it to rekindle,
Is agonizing.
Like writing a long story,
And waiting for ideas.

One day,
I’ll look in the mirror,
And tell the shadow man what he wants to hear.
That I’m selfish,
Broken,
Hurt,
And that I take it out on others sometimes.
That I’m tired,
Irritable,
And perhaps more individual than most.
That there are parts of me I hate,
And parts of me I hold dear,
Like that inner child,
That never disappears.
That sweet somber innocence,
Of times long gone,
Snapping me back to reality,
On days when it can get to be too much.
I’ll look at the shadow man,
And stare into his eyes,
And see my own.
There’s no getting rid of him,
We pilot this ship together,
And the only way we’re making it through the flight,
Is if we work together.
I’ll hug him close,
And shake his hand,
Because at the end of the day,
While my mind is my biggest critic,
It’s also my closest friend…

I may not be that old,
Been sixteen for a little over a week,
But I know,
That time is painfully fleeting.
Those routines I adore,
Grind life away to a paste,
Though I may deplore,
I don’t want all this time to be a waste.
Everywhere I turn,
Always pushing me to look to the future.
I see that I crash and burn,
Thoughts that make require sutures.
Forcing me to face the inevitable,
That my childhood will soon be gone,
I wish I could be a rebel,
Run away and come back at the dawn.
Time keeps ticking,
Time keeps slipping,
From me.
Keep growing older,
As time moves slower,
And everything I see,
Keeps fading.

Childhood memories,
Haunting me,
As houses are built,
On sacred land.
Two years left,
Till things start to leave my hands.
No amount of distraction,
Is ever enough,
It just delays the action,
And makes the truth more rough.
How it hurts,
To see my childhood drying up.
How it burns,
That expectations rise while I cry my eyes out,
Cause I don’t want to accept that time’s wasting,
I want things to stay the same,
And I hate that they are changing.
If I could stop time and keep everything as is,
You’d have to give me a good reason to take the next step.
For the fear of failure,
Outweighs all the good I see,
Too many possibilities.
People talk me up,
An excuse to disappoint,
Sometimes I don’t even know who I am,
Yet, they seem to have a point.
Days turn to weeks turn to months long gone,
Can never get them back,
And time doesn’t let you mourn,
We just keep on keeping on,
And hope you don’t get left behind.
All this fear holds me back,
Like the chains in my tower,
I want to break free,
But instead, I cower,
Tell myself I’m getting better,
While the results are nowhere to be found.
I stay looking envious at the ground,
While other people excel and move forward,
I’m stuck at the start,
Overcomplicating where to walk.
I’m up high in the sky,
Stuck in the middle of the beanstalk,
Too afraid to climb back down,
And too afraid to reach for the stars,
For what if I fall?
What if I fly?
Do I have the gall,
To even try…?

Growing older isn’t fun,
But it’s just a part of life,
Don’t know where I’m going,
I’ll find out in due time.

I’ve got a few things I want to say,
A few thoughts rattling around in my brain,
And though it may seem impolite,
I’m going to give you a piece of my mind.

I know I haven’t been around a long time,
Just a decade and a half.
However, I’ve still learned a thing or two,
About this world filled with gaffes.

This world’s a scary place,
Full of scary people,
And if you’re not careful,
They’ll eat you alive,
Chew you up, and spit you out,
With no regard for your life or your health.
We’re dancing in a fire,
Of our own making,
As people continue whining and complaining.
We need saving,
Oh, how we need saving.

It’s ironic,
How our greatest foe is ourselves,
So much petty bickering,
Chastises the thinking,
Until we’re at a point where we can’t do anything.

Who can you trust?
Your neighbor could be just,
Or a sociopath,
Hiding behind a mask.
Is everyone a friend?
Or is everyone a foe?
Or is there more nuance?
How are we to know?
Till it’s too late,
And we’re beaten down,
Lost everything,
To a monster.

Highschool’s a mess,
No finesse,
Filled with stress,
And depression.
On a quest,
To reassess,
And to suppress,
All unnecessary emotions.
Don’t want to sound too forlorn,
But is it too much to ask to live in a world,
Where everyday doesn’t feel like a chore,
Just to push through?
So much strife,
All through life.
Is it right,
Or wrong?
When does life,
Become less about surviving,
And more about living,
In this crazy time?

Seven hours,
Seven different subjects,
Piled onto a developing mind.
Some unnecessary,
Others are vital,
Few are a waste of time.
While everyone discovers their niche,
A fight for survival,
Some parts are primal,
Survival of the fittest they say,
It’s a shame that not everyone makes it out,
To fight another day.

To quote one of my favorite songs,
By a man named Alec Benjamin,
Titled “Gotta Be A Reason.”
“There’s gotta be a reason that I’m here on Earth,
Gotta be a reason for the dust and the dirt.
Oh, the changing of the seasons never changed my hurt.
So what’s it worth, what’s it worth?”
I believe that things happen for a reason,
Good or bad,
Then you have to question,
What the reason truly is?

This world’s a crazy place,
Full of crazy people,
And if you’re not careful,
They’ll eat you alive,
Chew you up, and spit you out,
With no regard for your life or your health.
We’re dancing in a fire,
Of our own making,
And no amount of raining,
Can drown out the whining and complaining.
We need saving,
Oh, how we need saving.

So there you go,
I opened up the vault,
And gave you a sample,
Of what’s inside my heart.
Take it as you’d like,
There’s not much more to say,
That’s just how I feel,
This specific day.
I have a feeling of dread,
As this year approaches its end.
2025.
By mid-March, I’ll be able to drive.
God, how time flies…

Acne,
Such a pain, reminding me,
Of my imperfections.
Please leave me be,
This insurrection.
Entrapping me,
In captivity.
Such misery,
Every time I look,
In the mirror,
Another reminder.
Such imperfection,
Fills me with trepidation.
Why must you torture me?
Why can't you just leave me be?

It may sound narcissistic,
Paint me as a cynic,
But I must admit,
I sometimes surprise myself,
That everyone’s lives,
Are just as complicated as mine.
Everyone thinks,
Everyone feels,
Everyone cries,
And everyone dies.
The way people act sometimes,
Makes you wonder if there’s a thought beyond their eyes,
But there is,
Just like there is behind mine.
We are all complex people,
With desires and dreams,
Goals and aspirations,
Pain and fears,
Ups and downs,
Strengths and weaknesses,
It’s enlightening.

The hardest emotion to understand,
So much more than just holding hands,
How mesmerizing when done right,
Not when every night’s a fight.
It can last decades,
Or a matter of minutes,
Of course for those whose love is so short,
I think they don’t understand it.

Love is more than just a feeling,
It’s a promise,
A commitment,
A pact between two lovers,
To try their hardest to make things work.
You don’t just let it go,
When someone else catches your eye,
That just shows,
You weren’t ready for the next stage of your life.
It makes you scummy,
Immature,
At least to me.
And what you felt wasn’t love but what we call,
Infatuation.
You saw a pretty face,
And thought that meant forever,
Till you realized that,
There’s more fish in the river.
You didn’t care about personality,
Or charm,
Just a short-lived burst,
Of so-called “Love,”
Breaking more hearts than one.

Highschool’s the precipice,
Of people who don’t know what they’re doing,
I guess you have to learn somehow,
Or you could just bide your time and wait,
Save the slander and the drama,
And keep yourself from crashing down.
People together one day,
Broken up and bitter the next,
Could you even consider,
That a relationship?
What happened to commitment?
What in the world is going on?
Sometimes it feels,
Like I’m living in a breakup song.
There’s only so much empathy,
One can feel,
For those who do the same thing,
Over and over again,
Expecting something to change.

Some people are purely content,
To remain single,
Their whole lives.
I respect it,
But can’t understand it.
Do they ever feel lonely,
Like they want something more?
Or are they too scared,
To reach for the double-edged sword?
For fear of the cut,
Or the pain that follows,
Little do they know,
You can’t have one without the other.

Some people believe that love is just romantic,
So they misunderstand when people say to love one another,
Platonically exists,
And in some ways,
Blossoms brighter than the rest.
Just having a good friend,
Who’s there when no one else is,
That kind of relationship,
One of dreams…

Hollywood always shows,
Overly romantic couples making out in the hallway,
Overly romantic at least to me.
They say there’s about five different love languages,
I’d say I’m a mixture of a few.
I wouldn’t be one for touch,
Or one for getting excessive gifts.
I’d rather be a help,
And be reminded how much I mean,
With some words of affirmation,
And some quality time,
Sounds like peace to me.

There is one I adore,
There was another,
But the feelings faded,
And the others grew stronger.
However, like I did before,
I’ll bite my tongue,
And not say a word.
Waiting for the feelings,
To subdue.
To cowardly to confess,
How much they mean to me,
Too much overthinking,
About if they feel the same way towards me.
Why does this have to be so hard?
Rejection is a pain that leaves a nasty scar.
Is it worth it to take the risk?
Or better to kick myself later as the feeling friskily,
Leaves me?

I used to think love was overrated,
Especially at my age,
And while I still do,
Upon recent overview,
Of friendships,
And addition of loneliness,
I question,
My previous,
Motives.

I need someone who understands me,
Someone who cares for me,
Even on the days,
Where I don’t see,
What they love,
They stay…
They don’t run away,
Just cause it’s hard,
They stay beside me.
Someone patient,
Someone kind,
Someone willing,
To stand by my side.
Someone to inspire,
A book of their own.

I believe true love is out there,
You just have to be patient enough to keep looking,
Despite no results.
There’s someone out there,
For you…
Probability almost guarantees it,
There are billions of people on this blue planet.
A lot who are lonely,
And looking,
For you…

I’ll never understand,
How some people confuse,
Abuse and misuse,
For love.
The people who take it,
Too nice and too forgiving,
And sometimes have nowhere to go.
The world would be a better place,
If the abusers and misusers,
Were erased…

Despite what I’ve said,
About immaturity and scumminess,
Yes, I understand,
Sometimes it’s just not meant to be.
But when people go around,
And do the same charade again,
Empathy dies,
Replaced with karma,
Who never lies…

There’s a rant from a poet,
Who wants a feeling he doesn’t fully understand.
Yet he longs for it,
Hoping it finds him,
He’s reaching out his hand,
Waiting,
For someone to take it,
And tell him that they love him,
For who he is,
All of it,
The good,
The bad,
And the ugly,
Because the truth is I’m a mess.
That is what true love is,
Unconditional,
And so,
So hard,
To find,
Amidst a pile,
Of broken,
Bitter,
Hearts.

When I walked past the casket,
And I set down at my pew,
I tried to conjure memories,
That would remind me of you.
While others cried, I stayed silent,
Cursing myself for seemingly not feeling a thing,
And when we left the church,
Numbness remained.

You lived a good long life,
You saw a lot through your lifetime,
We may not have been related directly,
But you were a close friend of the family.
You’d been through more than I could imagine,
You were around well before I came around.

The person who preached,
Who summarized a life in a few paragraphs filled with sentences,
Said something that stood out to me.
“Eventually, they’ll come a day,
Where more people you know are beyond than down here.”
While that seemed to be a cause for celebration,
All I felt was existential fear.

I’ve lost a lot of those I loved.
My neighbors to the right,
And an uncle who tried,
And now I can add to the list a family friend.
Through each death,
Death held my hand,
His cold touch led the way to acceptance.
I can’t change what happened,
Can’t bring them back to leave a few more years for me,
Until I was satisfied,
Cause I know I’d never be satisfied.
Though, as I cried,
He traced his bony finger across my cheek,
Drying my tears before he left,
Leaving behind a few simple statements.
“The loss you feel is proof they mattered.
Don’t let their death add to your mental clatter.
You believe in a place beyond this mortal plane,
So why waste your tears when you know you’ll see them again?”
I laughed in his face.
“If only it was that easy, Death.”
I remarked with pain.
Yet, as he left,
I knew he was right,
Barbara,
We’ll meet again,
In due time.
Until then,
Take a look down here now and again,
I’ll know.
So,
Farewell for now.

I went on a walk,
I found a tree,
In its branches,
Was your face staring back at me.
I began to cry,
I couldn’t stop,
It made me realize how much I miss you,
Since you’re gone.
I know it’s been years,
But it still burns,
I find myself shedding tears,
As the world continues to turn.
I still hear your voice,
Playing on repeat,
In my head,
In a desperate plea,
To convince myself,
With a placebo,
That perhaps,
You didn’t leave us alone.
But it’s getting faint,
As I forget,
How your voice once sounded,
But I don’t want to lose you yet.
How can I move on,
From someone,
Who touched my heart,
Now that you’re gone?

A Poem By: Reece Ellison
The Immortal One sits solemnly in his favorite field of sunflowers.
He waits patiently for time to pass.
He doesn’t have to wait long,
It’s happening all around him.
He watches the people in the town below,
They work so hard all throughout their lives,
And in return they receive nothing…
Nothing at all.

The Immortal One wasn’t always immortal,
Contrary to the town folks' beliefs.
He was once a normal human just like the rest of them,
Oh, how he missed those days,
Little did he know that that was just the first phase,
Of his life that is.
Back then he had a family,
A wife and a daughter.
His memory has faded over time,
But through it all, he remembers their names,
Lydia his wife, and Luna his daughter.

Those were the simpler times,
When he would watch his daughter play in the fields of sunflowers,
The same one he lays in now.
His wife had always loved sunflowers,
That’s why he lived where he did,
He loved the smile on her face when she would look out every day.
One day he was searching the forest.
Because his daughter had not come home,
She was lost and captured by monsters,
But not for long.
He followed them into a cave,
The place where the monsters called home.
As he searched for his daughter,
He found some sort of stone.
He was entranced by its beauty,
He reached out his hand and grabbed it,
Suddenly energy and power surged through him,
And the Immortal One was born.

It didn’t take him long to find her,
The monsters were very loud.
He found her tied to a tree,
The monsters were preparing to feast.
His anger reached a breaking point,
Power surged from his veins,
In the blink of an eye, the monsters were vaporized,
And Little Luna was saved.

Before he knew it his little girl wasn’t little anymore.
His wife’s beautiful scarlet hair faded to a gray.
She was still as sweet as she always was,
All the way to her final days.
The Immortal One looked just the same.
Not much about his appearance changed.
Except his eyes looked more tired and sad,
As the truth finally sunk in.
At first, he thought that the stone was a blessing,
He saved people all around the village he lived in.
He later realized that it was a curse,
Too much power for one man to master,
And too much pain down the line.

It was a pretty summer day,
When Lydia was buried in that field which she did love.
That day it rained heavily,
He knew that it was a sign.
By that point, Little Luna had a family,
Husband Ryder, son Luke, and their daughter Emma.
They were all there on the funeral day,
Then afterward they all cried themselves to sleep.

Then in what seemed like weeks to the Immortal One,
But was actually decades,
Luna was buried beside her mom.
The Immortal One used all his anger,
And a crater in the Earth was left when he was done.
Why did he have to touch that stone?
Why did he have to watch them die?
Unfortunately, his powers couldn’t save them,
It was their destiny.
He had beaten a whole lot of monsters,
In many shapes, forms, and sizes.
At the end of the day,
His worst enemy,
Was time…

He watched as the small little village he protected,
Blossomed into a little town,
Which then turned into a city,
The place he still called home.
He still fought off monsters,
He still made sure that the people were safe,
Every night he cried,
For everything he lost.

Lydia had a little nursery rhyme,
That she would sing to Luna as a baby,
Who then passed it on to her children,
They kept the memories alive.
It went like this:
Don’t let me see those tears fall down your cheek,
It’s too beautiful outside to cry.
The sun is shining,
The sunflowers are dancing on the Earth.
Then when the Moon shines bright at night,
Tell him what troubles you.
Then close your eyes,
And bask in the somber moonlight.

All that the Immortal One could think about,
Was all that he lost.
Even though centuries had gone by,
And the world changed so much.
He still felt the pain of loss,
Deep in his heart,
His broken heart…
He sat in his favorite sunflower field,
And watched as day faded to night.
It was at that moment,
That he finally had enough,
No more suffering.
He was going to put everything to rest.
He used all of his pain,
And created a spark with the power to destroy the world,
And him.
Just one touch of that spark to the Earth,
And everything would be gone.
Flashbacks from all the memories,
All the people he met along the way.
Why did life have to be so painful?
Why did things have to end this way?
The full moon shined its bright lights,
And he was ready to finally die,
As he cried.

He felt a hand touch his shoulder,
Through the darkness, he saw a little girl’s eyes.
Looked similar to Little Luna’s
She told him “Tonight is too beautiful a night to die.”
He sensed the girl,
Was one of his descendants.
He couldn’t destroy the whole world,
At that moment he was reminded,
How beautiful nature was.
They set down into the sunflower field,
As the moonlight shone in their eyes.
It was in that moment,
Both began to sing:
Don’t let me see those tears fall down your cheek,
It’s too beautiful outside to cry.
The sun is shining,
The sunflowers are dancing on the Earth.
Then when the Moon shines bright at night,
Tell him what troubles you.
Then close your eyes,
And bask in the somber moonlight.

The Immortal One told the girl to go home to bed,
She did reluctantly but said,
“Don’t let the simple things pass you by.”
Then she left,
But the Immortal One didn’t cry.
He used the power in that spark,
And opened a doorway deep into the dark.
Through the door, he saw a whole new world,
A fresh new start.

As he went to take a step,
He told this world goodbye,
The little girl called out “Wait!”
He turned around,
And there she was,
And she had decided,
She was coming too.
The Immortal One told her no.
She had a family waiting for her to come home.
The little girl said she didn’t,
They were killed long ago.
She wanted to leave this place behind,
And go on a different adventure,
And who better to go with,
Then a protector of the world?

So with that, they both gazed through the gateway,
A whole new journey was just about to begin.
As they stepped through the portal,
The Immortal One realized he had gained a friend.

Nearly midway through April,
Time doesn’t intend to move any slower.
A new chapter will soon begin,
When I’ve just gotten used to the one that I’m in.

I’m going through changes,
Yet, I still feel the same.
Can you even notice,
By my face?
I’m going through changes,
And it’s draining me.
I just hope that the mirror,
Doesn’t show someone I’ve never seen.

Life is building up,
Responsibilities are growing.
I am on the cusp,
And the exertion’s showing.

I don’t know where I’m going,
I feel like I’m lost.
I know that I’m growing,
But at what cost?
Childhood is dying,
Yet, I remain.
Am I really myself,
If everything’s changed?


Whether it be death,
Of family or a platonic friendship.
Never any rest,
Leaving behind relationships.

I hear change is normal,
But does that make it okay?
Constantly counting,
The fading days.
Ticking and ringing,
All around the clock,
Constantly begging,
For it to stop.

The discontement and resentment,
The words people misuse,
The friends people forget,
The love they abuse.

If I could press a button,
And pause it all.
I’d keep the world frozen,
Stop the spinning ball.
I’d enjoy the moment,
Forever slowed.
Perhaps then I’d get it,
And learn to cope.

If changes weren’t so scary,
Maybe I’d be less frantic,
Perhaps the soldier and the poet,
Would love more than they’d ever know.
The wolf and the sheep,
Bound eternally.
Perhaps the old cat lady,
Would’ve been seen more fondly.
The demons we often hide,
And my paradigm.
What happened,
With time?

I’m going through changes,
Yet, I still feel the same,
I just need some patience,
If that’s okay.
Let me catch my bearings,
And hold them close,
They’re all I remember,
From the times I love most.

It’s the crisis of connection,
Why the beggars feel forced to beg.
Why the little tree was hydrophobic,
And the alien searches for a suitable planet.

Pictures are all we,
Can do to protect,
The precious memories,
Our brain forgets.
As we look at the fragments,
Of the past,
Oh, how we long,
For those times to come back.

If I could change the world,
It’d be different, that’s for sure.
Perhaps these changes,
Wouldn’t feel so absurd.

I know hundreds have done this before,
Lived through life,
And walked through all the open doors,
Dodging the strife.
However, one thing,
I’m not sure you see,
Is that none of those millions of people,
Were me.

Fear starts to peak,
As routines reach their endings.
All too quickly,
Is this how it has to be?

I know growing older,
Is just part of the deal.
I just need a shoulder,
Someone to heal.
To let me take a break,
To pause,
But we can’t,
Perhaps peace is just a facade.

Am I worth hearing,
My biggest critic keeps asking,
Pieces of my mind fracturing,
As he just starts laughing.

I’m going through changes,
Yet, I still feel the same.
Can you help me?
Can you point the way?
There’s no need to worry,
Cause I guess I’m doing okay,
The sky’s the limit,
I just have to be brave,
And face these changes…

It always moves,
Whether we like it to,
Or not.
We can’t control it,
And our influence,
Pales to its might.
Through all our wars,
Where we fought,
And people died.
What never changed,
The somber dance,
Of time.
We take its hand,
And hope we can keep up,
As we falter,
Broken-hearted.
It grinds us into a fragile shell,
Filled with heartache,
Like a snowflake,
An assaulter.
Some are accepting,
Other terrified,
Such as myself,
They try amending,
Their mistakes,
That they made,
In the past.
Can’t change it now.
We keep on moving,
No other choice,
Just keep on keeping on,
Hoping that the madness makes sense,
As we grow,
Because we know,
Time only moves forward,
As it always has.

In her eyes, he saw the sea,
A mighty ocean staring back.
When she told him she wanted to leave,
He could feel his heart crack.
When she said that it was over,
Felt like he was swimming underwater.
He thought he would drown,
All this pain, hidden behind a frown,
As he sank deeper down.
In his eyes, she saw defeat,
Not to mention all the pain.
When she told him she wanted to leave,
She ignored the rain.
When she said that it was over,
She took the first step out of the water.
She wasn’t going to drown,
She was tired of sinking down,
Even if she had to make him frown.
No amount of therapy,
Could save them from the raging sea…

Summer starts soon,
Junior year is on the horizon.
Childhood dried up by the drought.
I believe things will turn out well,
Yet, I doubt.
Just stop thinking and enjoy,
The last summer before life starts for real.

You never knew me before,
And you probably won’t care much afterward.
Nobody probably wants to hear what I have to say,
But just in case…

Am I good enough?
If I am then why don’t I feel like it at all?
Is feeling unworthy just another facet of existence?
Is a lack of self-worth just another problem to persist through?

I’ve always kept to myself.
Tried to hide the innermost parts of me,
Well protected by a wall.
That way, I keep myself safe.
But is it really safe?

Maybe I am too hard to get to know.
So people don’t even bother trying anymore.
Maybe that’s my own fault,
I wonder about that a lot.
Every now and then a person slips through the cracks,
And if I’m lucky I gain a new friend.
I’ve never had the best luck.
So I keep most people at a “safe” distance.
I don’t mind being alone,
But I hate feeling lonely.

I think I have a pretty boring personality,
After all, being smart isn’t a trait people adore.
Maybe that’s another problem with me.
Add it to the list.

Sometimes I wonder what my friends see in me.
I worry constantly about how I’m seen.
I feel so unworthy, for how lucky I’ve been.
Am I worthy?
After all, they had to try real hard to get me to do anything.
Is that someone they really want to be around?
My anxiety, it cripples me.
Sometimes I wish that it wasn’t so loud.

Sitting in the background of a classroom,
Makes me wonder if my presence changes a thing.
If I was gone, sick for a day, would anyone notice or say anything?
Probably not they have better things to do.
Maybe I am just a narcissist, add that to the list too.

Will anyone ever truly understand me?
Will I just be another person cast aside?
Will I just be forgotten?
Who can say?

Maybe I am just too sensitive,
Though I try to not let what people say affect me.
“Sticks and stones may break my bones but words will never hurt me.”
All lies to mask the pain.
Words hurt.
People couldn’t care less.

They say just to be yourself,
But what if yourself isn’t what is popular or wanted.
How long till the loneliness sinks in?
Perhaps it’s all just a big misunderstanding.
Maybe I should try being more open.

Always wondering, what do I not have that others do?
What makes me so mediocre?
Why can my friends be more social than I am?
What skills do they have that I don’t?
Why do I always feel so awkward?
Why do I always feel out of place?
Why do I always feel so lost?

There are things that I would love to say.
Certain words that would brighten up my day.
To someone I adore.
The effects those words may have would cause too much change.
So I’ll bite my tongue as I always do.
Pray and hope that the feeling washes through.

The overthinking mind is a blessing and a curse.
Creates so many fictitious scenarios.
All unnecessary, all compulsively,
No point in trying to stop it.
Anxiety doesn’t help the picture,
Always wondering if I’ve made a mistake.
Always fearing that I’ve pushed someone away.
Always thinking about what people think.
Always hating why I feel this way.

I don’t think I look the best.
I’d rate myself a four to a six out of ten.
Maybe that’s a bit too harsh.
Or maybe that’s a bit too nice.

The future is a scary thing.
Fearing I’ll lose everything.
Will I amount to anything?
Or will I be nothing?
Time will tell.
I’ll dread it until,
The future becomes the past.

I’ve grown scared to look people in the eye.
Silly, I know, but it's become a slight phobia of mine.
I look up, down, everywhere around,
Except in the eyes.
I’m trying to get better,
All I can do is try.

Everyday is about the same.
Prepare your mask to hide the pain.
Don’t let the dam break away.
Just smile and wave.
Am I okay?

Am I good enough?
Or are my friends just crazy?
Am I a good friend?
Or are my feelings going hazy?
Am I interesting at all?
Or is my perception of myself just flawed?
Should I feel proud?
Or should I just create a shroud?
Is the real me worth seeing?
I don’t know
I don’t know…

You didn’t know me before,
You probably still don’t know now.
Maybe though, you’d like to know.
That in this moment,
This specific moment,
That I’m writing this,
Or technically typing this,
I feel good enough.
Not because anybody told me.
Instead I told myself,
And I believe.
So maybe just maybe,
I am good enough…

Flora loved the fireworks, though she couldn’t hear,
Feeling anticipation growing as the day approached that year.
Fire condensed in controlled explosions,
Full of color, optical wonder,
Flashing sparks and views that rivaled stars.
Finally, the moment arrived,
Flora set out on her drive,
Fear and reverence on the inside,
Focusing on her mind,
Feeling joy that now was the time.
Flashing colors across the sky,
Flora covered in many different colors,
Fauna running to their mothers,
Fawns falling from the shaking of the booms.
Flora felt like she was flying,
Fascinated by the sparkles that were shining.
Flora realized,
Fireworks are more than just a recreational display we shoot in the sky,
Fireworks are memories burning bright!
Flora may not have been able to hear them, but she reasoned that was all right.

This year, lunchtime seems to drag on,
When previously, before I knew it, it was gone.
What has changed?
It isn’t time.
It’s the sorrowful realization,
That friends can fade,
Just like the rain,
Before you know it,
Gone.
The silence,
Deafening,
The consequences,
Terminal,
I’ll never be the same.

When people ask my favorite color,
I often say red or green,
And while I adore them,
It’s a lie.
Then after the conversation,
I wonder, “Why?”
Why did I lie?
What point did it serve?
I question and question,
And this is what I can confirm.

I’m afraid,
Afraid of being judged.
Afraid of the pointed fingers,
And the laughs.
Afraid of being shunned.
Afraid of the chastisement,
And the thought of being outcast.
Why so many fears,
Stem from something so trivial?
I couldn’t answer,
It makes no sense!
Yet something so small,
Feels so consequential,
Making a mountain,
Out of a molehill.
Seems to be my speciality,
Unfortunately.

Perhaps it’s a lack of self-confidence,
So I’m bound to hide any part of me.
That way if I get insulted,
They aren’t addressing me,
Just whatever I told them,
I control the narrative.
How long can one accept,
Living their lives as someone else?
It would feel more freeing,
To stop the lies,
And tell the truth,
But is it worth the risk?
Is the exposure worth the glamour?
Is it worth…
Being me?

I remember when we all had to wear masks,
I hated it.
Yet when the main force of Covid passed,
I kept it on.
Slightly suffocating,
******* all personality,
‘Til I’m nothing,
More than,
Another face,
People pass,
Perhaps a glance,
If I’m lucky.
It’s not as simple,
As just taking the mask off,
If it was,
Do you think I would’ve kept it on?

Trapped in an overthinking mind,
Thought circling,
Swimming fast through the ocean,
No chance of escaping.
The sharks are hungry,
Ready to fill me,
With doubt,
Concern,
A lack of self-worth,
And the biggie,
Anxiety.
If I try to swim away,
I’ll be eaten alive,
Torn apart,
From the inside out.
So at least for now,
My mind is a prison and I’m never gonna get out…

Last year around my birthday,
I wrote a poem similar to this,
Titled “Am I Good Enough?”
A simple question.
I came to the conclusion that I am,
But if I hide, inside,
Is that really living life?

Some lessons that I’ve learned,
Sometimes it’s best to walk the road alone,
The road less traveled,
The road no one else goes,
But the one which will lead you home.
People aren’t always reliable,
Me included,
It’s guaranteed,
Eventually,
They’ll let you down.
And it will hurt you,
When they do,
But they’re human too.
Who make mistakes,
And have regrets,
Filled with stress,
And aren’t perfection,
Despite what they may say.

I often think,
And dread,
What people think of me,
A broken tragic thought,
Excessively haunting.
I think the consensus is,
I’m a stuck-up, narcissist,
Trapped in my own head.
They wouldn’t be entirely wrong,
But I swear,
That’s not me…
I fear that people think I’m too good for them,
So they don’t even bother to connect,
That feeling spreads, and before you know it,
There’s no one left.
In reality,
I’m not that great,
Subpar, at best,
Scraping by with gifts,
I misuse and don’t understand.

I’m painfully introverted,
My shell is very comfortable,
What’s not to love?
Then the loneliness creeps in,
And while I may be satisfied with myself,
People need connection.
Though I don’t need as much as most,
I still need connection.
Yet, I fear,
There’s few who get me,
For me.

I try not to be a pleaser,
But when you’re desperate,
And given attention,
You’d be a fool not to accept it.
Yet, most don’t have the purest intentions,
And abuse,
And misuse,
The kindness they’re given.

I’m tired of sitting in my tower,
Watching from my balcony as others shine,
Questioning if I could do the same,
If I could be half as bright.
As they say,
Sometimes you have to make a leap of faith.
So I will,
I’ll fall,
Not caring what’s below.
Isn’t it better,
To be yourself,
Rather than die a character?
I’ll land on my feet,
And run to the rest,
To prove that I’m worth,
To be in their presence.

So sayonara, somber sorrows,
Farewell, fleeting fear,
Attack, anticipatory anxiety,
And believe,
Things will be fine.
I hope you see,
That the simplest things to confess,
To the overthinking mind,
Can tear me to pieces,
With nothing left to find.

I’ll be myself,
For all I can be, is me,
And though sometimes I may despise me,
I wouldn’t want to be anyone else.
So…
My name is Reece Allen Ellison,
And my favorite color is…
Pink

Hard to break,
Changes your brain,
Makes you dependent,
Taking away your independence.
Whether it be a drink,
Vape or cigarette,
Or even a cellular device,
You can’t bear to let charge at night.
It’s destroying you,
I’ve seen it,
My uncle thought it was safe,
It killed him.
Don’t be the one who gets stuck,
In all the harmful muck,
But if you do,
You,
Can overcome.

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.

I hold onto a rope,
Though I don’t know where it goes,
But I’ll keep on holding tightly,
Since I fear what lies below.
Somedays it’s hard to hold onto hope,
Somedays I wish I’d just let go,
But I won’t,
I won’t.
I’ll climb out of the hole,
That my friend dug to bury me,
With her resentment,
And discontentment.
I won’t let her pain be my end,
Like it nearly was for her.
On those dark days,
When there’s so much unknown,
The one thing,
That’ll stay the same,
Is my hope.
I will make it to brighter days!

The singer wrote her pain on a page,
And sang her songs on a stage.
She was going to be engaged,
Till her boyfriend left in a rage.
She wrote another song,
Feeling like she had been dragged along.
She wished he hadn’t been so headstrong,
Perhaps her heart had just been wrong.
She never quite moved on,
Though she found another guy,
One who truly loved her, one who made her heart flutter,
She still had him in the back of her mind.
One day, she and her new fiancé,
Went on a date, and she saw him with someone new.
She knew it had been long ago,
But when she saw them kiss, her heart fractured in two.
Her fiancé didn’t know what to say,
As she ran away, overcome by pain,
She found herself on a stage; she wanted to flush the memories away,
So she opened her mouth,
To an empty crowd,
And she sang.

A bird sits on a limb of a tree,
Unbeknownst to the strife of human life.
Little does it know,
That tonight, a soul sleeps for the final time.

Trapped in a mental labyrinth,
Trapped with only one escape in sight.
Do you hold on?
Or do you let go before the sunlight finds you?
Tomorrow could be a better day,
But is it worth it to suffer another moment?
I’d say yes, but I’m just a naive fool,
Knowing little of the minds of so many crying eyes.

So many mental battles,
Every day another war to overcome.
Exhausting as it may be,
Every battle leaves the soul just a little bit stronger.
On the other side of the coin,
Every battle leaves the soul just a little bit more hurt.

The wind blows through the trees,
And nobody knows that the soul just wanted peace,
And nobody’s there to hold it,
All it wants is a friend, someone to help them.
But when it counts, there’s nobody around.

Every day another soul losses all hope,
And people joke about it at the slightest inconvenience,
“A test? I want to die.”
“More than one? Doubled now.”
What a inconsiderate thing to say, mocking all of the true pain,
Of all the real people who jumped off the edge.
Of all the real people who wished for their deaths.
Of all the real people who cried out for help to deaf ears.
Of all the real people who die every year.
It’s always a funny joke, until it happens,
And if you had a conscience maybe we’d stop this,
But we keep playing the same old pitiful charade.
As another soul fades away.
What will it take to stop?
What will it take to help?

I’ve often wondered about the value of life,
I had a friend who valued theirs very little.
They made sure to tell me every single day,
Until I pushed them away.
Pulled down in a hole of darkness,
I claw my way to the top to see the sunlight.
A long road but I know that it’s worth it.
I know in my soul that I won’t let go of the rope.

I found a small poem in my library book,
And it got me to wonder and think,
Did someone else succumb to their pain?
Or was this poem just a stepping stone,
On their road to happiness unknown?
You be the judge:
“I hold onto a rope.
I do not know where it leads.
But it gives me a sense of security.
Do I let go? And stand on my own?
No, for I fear of losing all hope.
So I stay and I follow.”
A tragic tale, with an ending unknown.
I just hope that wherever this person is,
They’re doing better than when they wrote this.
I pray and hope that they aren’t dead.

I often wonder what the future could’ve been,
For the souls, who lost it all.
They could’ve done great things,
Now we’ll never know.
That’s a depressing revelation,
It fills me with deep sorrow.

On the news you see people die everyday,
The tragic thing is that one starts to become numb.
That isn’t the way that the world should be, but it is.
Another struggle added to the list.

I’m not afraid to admit that I’m terrified of death,
Depending on how I’ll die.
I’m afraid of my overthinking, anxious mind,
Thinking it’s last thought, before it turns off,
And I leave this world behind.
I know where I’m going,
And deep down, it is well with my soul.
But I can’t help but worry,
About all the other souls, and where they got to go.
I pray that they found their peace,
And the Lord shows them mercy.

The worst part is that nothing skips a beat,
Things keep moving on,
Not even a moment to process, must get back to the action.
Time can be your friend, or it can make you hurt.

When my uncle died,
Things felt about the same.
He had been in a hospital for a while,
So he was already gone,
But when he died the silence felt brand new.
As for my grandparents on my dad’s side,
They died a few years apart.
There is nothing more agonizing than watching someone fade away.
The breaking of the heart is the worst kind of pain, because it stays.

It’s always so strange, how it feels like fiction.
It feels like it can’t possibly be true.
But as you wait, and listen, to the deafening silence,
You realize the truth.

A bird sits on a limb of a tree,
Unbeknownst to the strife of human life.
Little does it know,
That tonight, a soul was saved from everlasting sleep.
By his own hands,
It decided to live another day.
It loves the sunrises and the sunsets,
So it vowed to see tomorrow through.
The bird flies away,
As the world waits for tomorrow to show its face.

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.

Always the cloud,
Blocking out my sun,
Filling me with darkened thoughts,
Never any fun.
Makes me question the point,
Wondering if the struggle is worth the ending.
Always suffering,
For what?
Eventually, the clouds will move on,
My sun will resurface,
I’ll hide my pain behind a smile,
And walk on,
For what am I to do?

A wolf,
All alone,
On his lonesome,
Waiting for prey…
Wondering if love,
Is worth the pain…
A sheep stranded far away,
From its herd,
The strangest sheep you’ve ever heard.

This one thinks for itself,
Despite the stereotype,
Of the mindless zombies.
This one thinks it’s something else,
The first of her kind,
Her childish pride.
Her herd says that love is a lie,
A double-edged sword,
A failing dance,
They advise against,
Searching for true love,
A foolish gambit.
She thinks she’ll break the mold,
Be something more than what she’s told,
But her beating heart will be her demise,
As the wolf takes its prize.

The wolf steps out from the forest,
With a coy look on his face,
The sheep is surprised,
And capsized.
She’s been thrown into the waves,
Her heart betrayed her in a million ways.
With a look of interest, she approaches,
As the wolf prepares his script,
He smiles and winks, checking the boxes,
As he licks his lips.

He says,
“Haven’t you heard,
About the predators,
That roam in these woods?
What’s a thing such as yourself,
Doing this far away,
From the herd?”

She says,
“I’m not afraid of danger,
I’m here to break the mold.
You don’t seem quite as scary,
As the elders foretold.
I find the flock a burden,
Following a fool’s lead,
I am an independent,
I’ll go where my heart and mind agree.”
The wolf smiles with glee,
His prey is his guaranteed.

The sheep notices scars,
One on his ear,
And one by his heart,
She empathizes and opens her own,
Ready to hear the stories unfold.

The wolf smiles and points at the one at his ear.
“This one’s from a coyote who cowered in fear.”
He pointed next to the one by his heart.
“My mom tried to tear me apart.”
The sheep’s soul aches and groans,
Feeling empathy for a wolf unknown,
Smiling softly she asks for his name.
“Anwir,” He says and bows his head.
“Amora,” She responds, bowing along.

Time moves on,
And the pair grow close.
Their love so strong,
It could be a blaze,
And turn the woods,
To an ashen decay.
If only it was,
More than a farce,
Made up by a wolf,
To lure his prey.
So he plays his part,
His life was a stage,
Waiting for the sacred day.

The wolf offers to walk the sheep,
To a place where silence would creep.
The sheep agrees,
Calls it a date,
The wolf smiles with glee,
Sealing the sheep’s fate.

He leads her along,
A stream and a meadow,
Where they got along,
And grew closer together,
All part of his master plan,
Buying time,
To lure her to her end.

He takes her to the precipice,
With nearby mighty cliffs,
The sheep stares into,
The starry night sky.
The wolf feels split in two,
Instinct or love,
He cannot decide.
He remembers his mom,
Who tried,
To eat him to survive.

He lunges,
She thrashes,
She cries,
Her last.
“Why?”
She asks him.
He bows his head,
Before pushing her body,
Of the face of the cliff…

He sits down and gazes at the moon,
So full,
So pure,
Upon instinct, he howls,
Then it clicks,
His actions make no sense.
He flashes back to the sheep.
Smile and eyes,
That pleased him so.
He thinks of her question,
“Why?”
He starts to cry.
Love at first sight,
Ended under a starry night,
With no reason why,
Thus, is played,
The game of life…

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…

When you’re a beggar,
You take what you can get,
Even if it’s moldy,
Corrosive,
Acidic,
Or rotten,
You take it.
Cause you don’t know,
When your next meal is,
Could be a week,
Or a month,
You just pray that this slop,
Holds you over.

When you’re a beggar,
You can waltz around the town,
Find a place to settle down,
With your broken tin can.
You sit on the corners of the blocks,
Trying your hardest to cause,
Someone to notice your cause.
You’ll find,
People spend a lot of time,
In their own minds,
Meanwhile, you’re starving,
And running out of time.
When you’re a beggar,
And someone reaches out their hand,
You take it,
Even if they throw you to the ground,
You take it.
At least they paid attention,
Even with their misguided intentions,
All you wanted was attention,
So you take it.

When you’re a beggar,
And you see strangers in love,
You wonder,
How that feels,
And if,
Someone,
Could love someone like you.
You walk,
With your fragile shoes,
To the park,
Imagining the blues,
As the sun,
Fades away to many hues.
And you sit,
Underneath your bench,
Your friend,
And you wonder why,
This is your life.
The birds,
Sing their songs to cheer you up,
And at night the crickets do the same,
They just want to see your smile.

When you’re a beggar,
You know people can lie,
And they do it all the time,
To your face,
Or behind,
Your back.
Everyone hides their true intentions,
Behind a mask.

When you’re a beggar,
You’re not the best judge of character,
Your desperation blinds your sight.
Once you’re noticed,
By a person,
You grab on,
And don’t let go.
They may ignore you,
Defame you,
Bully you,
Torture you,
But you stay loyal.
You don’t want to be the villain of the story,
To the person who noticed you were there,
So you stay by their side,
Even when they don’t deserve your care.
How their words can sting.

When you’re a beggar,
Living in your cardboard box,
Inside you’ll bubble,
Where you’d like to remain,
Untouched.
But your body,
Fights against you,
Knowing,
You need someone,
To notice,
That you’re suffering.
You fight every morn,
A battle filled with scorn,
Mostly toward,
Yourself.

When you’re a beggar,
You know you’re at the bottom,
Never stopping,
Your plummet,
To the cold, hard ground.
You pray that someone sees you,
And will reach out their hand to catch you,
Yet you keep falling faster,
With no end in sight.
It’s hard to keep the guise up,
That you are doing fine, but,
You play,
Your role,
Cause life’s a stage.
When you’re a beggar,
Sometimes you just feel down,
You don’t know how,
To stop it,
So you wait.
You know,
Sometimes, it’s okay,
To cry,
So you wait,
And let it out.
Yet others,
Seem determined,
To break you down,
They see you’re broken,
So why not break you more?
I get sick and tired of,
People telling others,
How to live,
Like they know what they’re doing,
They’re lying.
Life can be pulled out from under you,
Just like a carpet,
No one’s a pro at living life,
We just take it a day at a time.

When you’re a beggar,
Sometimes you wonder,
If your problems are noticeable,
Or not.
Then someone,
Walks to your cardboard home,
Takes your hand,
Pulls you up,
Cleans your face,
And gives you twenty bucks.
“I saw you looked sad.
I’m new to the neighborhood,
And I wanted you to know that,
I see you,
And I’m here.
Here’s another,
Twenty dollars.
Actually,
You know what?
Come with me,
Let’s go out to eat,
On me.”
It’s that the best feeling?
Yet, like the setting sun,
And the passage of time,
You blink once,
And they’re gone.
No one knows,
How it feels to be,
On the bottom,
With no ladder to climb up.
With that forty dollars,
And your stomach filled,
You decide, tonight,
To not give up.
Sometimes, I feel like a beggar,
Screaming, taunting,
For fleeting love.
So I’m waiting,
For life to work itself out
People have their goals and desires,
Would you like to know mine?
Contentment.

When you’re a beggar,
You know the greatest treasure,
That’s getting rarer,
Is simply a loyal friend…