Poetry

It rained today, but I can’t stop thinking about the future. 

In a world of war and lies and deceit and wrong,

All I seem to focus on is the little things.

I hear your concerns,

feel your pain, your joy, your laughter.

I know your doubts, what keeps you up at night.

But I will not change for you.

I feel like I’m losing

Who I am;

I feel like she’s slipping away from me, one

Comment at a time, one

Heartless joke, one

Unmeant, 

the frost on the window

spreads like wings on a bird

my hand cools

as the warmth melts the fog away

the rare gift of marks

if anything

marks aren't made enough

at least not for good

i draw

Duet

starting together ending together

weaving around each other's sound

adapting tuning

instinctively fitting into the tone

the way we want to do this

the contrast

played so perfectly

My favorite type of writing

is when I'm in the zone

I'm typing

no hesitations

just plugging in all of my honest thoughts and opinions into my somewhat-anonymous profile

spinning deeper and deeper into my spirals

The agony of the human race

simple creatures

snickering at my poetry 

banging their fists against their heads

stalling work

reading mushy parts of books they pretend not to enjoy

saying stupid things

In my mind

"Thanksgiving" has warped definition

twisted and mushed and changed by lots of different people

it used to be a holiday of celebration;

now it's harsh and revealed and true

it's cruel and violent

I never wanted him to let me go… I just wanted the old him. But I guess letting me go was the best option for him. Still, it hurts to think that those times are now just memories.

When I was younger

I always wanted to

 smell like old roses.

The thorns on the flowers

 amazed me.

I loved how people 

Your ego brightens my day

like a tumor on an x-ray.

Please dim it for the greater good

since you have not even earned

it's value.

You bought it out of your father's wallet.

Does he know that?

Anticipatory joy – the feeling of knowing good is coming.

i know it isn’t for sure yet–but i can almost feel it

the way the snow whispers down my back