Poetry

I have this little balcony

On the second floor of my house

My big white house

With gold fixtures

In this town in sunny so cal

They say the eyes

Are the windows to the soul

Stained glass

Of brown and green and blue

I look into her eyes

The eyes that match the color

From the moment you are born you enter into a world outside of all that is safe and cozy. Thrust upon lands. Joining a world of thought known only when you are at peace with your being.

Everybody fears death

Until they’re already dead

Left for the people who hunt the weak and support the strong

Am I wrong?

I’ve heard it all before

It is wrong for me 

to want to hold you close

and tell you that it'll all be okay,

even if I have no way of knowing

if it will be?

A kid simplified and broken down

Reduced to a microphone in their hand,

The notes that leave their lips.

This child is more than this.

“You are my daughter”

If anyone ever called me beautiful, I don't know what I'd do..

I'm used to being pretty but not that pretty.

Plain but not ugly.

I've never been called beautiful.

Beautiful is for people who match some standard.

The sky smiles when you laugh and so do I.

Even though we barely know each other, I feel as though I've known you for a million years.

Your laugh.

Your smile.

Everything I've seen and all that I haven't.

“Tho’ Nature, red in tooth and claw / With ravine, shriek’d against / his creed—” - Lord Alfred Tennyson

Yes, you are a Man!

You, sir, are no beast, so

Every Day I sit

In a spine-crushing chair.

And I’m not sure how I take it,

The nicotine in the air

Do the others even care?

I’m shaking in my chair.

Green plastic on the ground

Green plastic on the leaves

Green plastic all around

Green plastic in the air

Where is the grass?

when they say copying is the sincerest form of flattery,

they mean art.

when I say copying is the sincerest form of flattery,

i think about how your voice

has the same cadence as mine,