She can walk
          between
             night and day
               never letting either
                  get in her way.
She learned this trick
                     many moons ago
                                by
                     going deep within
           and never letting it show.
Her soul is innocent
her heart is pure
she’s gone through more
than most could endure.
            She’s an angel of light
                 an angel of dark
                 you never know
              what you will spark.
                      You want to hurt her?
                         Please, go ahead and try
                           she’ll be the one to show you
                                  just how well she can
                                                              f
­                                                                l­
                                                                ­  y.
                                  Her soul innocent
                    her heart pure
      but never think for one minute
that she’s not secure.
                                Say what you will
                          please, do what you must
                       but your jealousy and hatred
                             won’t waver her trust!
~

Metal, blood, and oil
plunged into the sea
Only at the hands of men
could this be
Beautiful things aren't here
for us to enjoy
Nor are they ours
to freely destroy
Yet to burn the world down
seems mankind's fate
Because of our love of money
and our nature to hate
Yes, we'll torch this innocent Earth to the ground
Till it's just another lifeless rock spinning around
And space won't remember us
neither will time
Our entire existence
an unspeakable crime
We don't deserve this place
and she doesn't deserve us
Our metal, blood, and oil
will turn her to dust

I finally broke down every wall for You

And you picked up every single stone
Just to throw it back at me.........

Heaven rained on me,
I breathed in the petrichor,
Bathed in the downpour.

Bring the buried flower,
Bring the burned out candle.
Bring the closed notebook,
Bring the ended hour.
Dig up the flower,
Strike the match,
Open the notebook,
Begin a new hour.
Bring the writing you’re afraid of
And regenerate it, and
Make it speak.
Scatter your poems left and right,
Because the world can’t wait to hear
Your words.