Poetry

Every snowflake falls from the sky,

They dance merrily in the wind, as they fly,

And I see each snowflake, and I wonder why?

Why are they so different? As they come down from sky high.

& the trees outside stand like arrows

in the winter morning, stiff & afraid.

the world is cold, and hard,

and the new february ice lays unforgiving.

Long day

past where morning sun shines and into the dark huskiness of night

fluorescent lights beating down 

then flickering off

a fanfare

a reflection

a redemption

Click

Click

Click

I push at the eraser

of my mechanical pencil.

Watching the lead peek out to say

“Hello!”

The rush of information from a single swipe

Is a current that threatens to sweep me away

Each new voice adding another issue to the many already bouncing around my head.

I’ve been told,

That I have a gift for words,

Here lie the depressing thoughts,

I keep hiding in my metaphors

so no one guesses they're mine.

Hope is often used as a term to wish for something.

But hope is broad.

Vague.

Some people hope to win a sports game.

O say does that star-spangled banner yet wave

O'er the land of the free and the home of the brave?

Does it? 

Is our pride in a land of freedom and bravery? 

i was running.

because that’s all I could do.

run.

my dirty red converse slapped the pavement.

i was at the park now.

faster

faster i ran.

past tourists,

past benches dedicated to the lost,

Is it still America?

The same freedom and liberty our founders fought for,

Now being stripped away by the murderers of our government?

Our Constitution, now no more than ink on paper;

Oh, but they’ll laugh at my blissfulness,

As if it’d affect them more than an ant would a herd.

Oh, to feel felonious for such innocence,

Caused by others—wasting their arrow on a valiant bird.

Dear sun,

Dear winds,

Dear world,

If you hear my plea, I ask of your help.

I’m losing my grip,

I’m falling,