Poetry

Colors of nature

Blooming with joy and beauty

The flowers of spring

there weren’t enough chairs in the growing room, 

open as always to the prophets

& the wind. and so as people poured and poured

tears of glass

welling up

let them out

let them pass.

tears of fire

streaming down

i won't struggle

if i drown.

tears of blood

pouring out

more and more,

I reach out, my fingertips brushing against the glass. I see a girl every time I look in a mirror, she's standing there on the other side but she's no longer the same as she used to be.

She flies through the sun

Wings spiral beat bright blue sky 

Nothing stays the same 

Fourteen 

Fourteen years ago 

My life became automatically harder 

Because of how I looked 

Thirteen 

It was just a threat

Just a rumor

It’s not real

It’s not gonna happen

But what about when it’s not a threat

When it’s real

I’m not a painter 

But if I was 

I would paint masterpieces 

And tell a story within each frame 

I would create a piece of art 

sometimes i wish i could forget everyone i ever met

and lie down on my back in the ocean

only feel the noiseless miles between my toes

minnows kissing my skin

and nothing else

Time when the sun has brushed --

Only the crests of great waves,

A grey stillness approaches from the east --

Advancing gently.

Across the world we All prepare for nightfall,

I asked my friend

For a poem idea 

She said 

Write a poem about sewer rats

So this is my poem about rats

Squeak

Squeak

Scurrying through the city 

Is it really so hard to just be nice to people? 

Why is it us versus them? 

What makes "them" different? 

"Worse" 

We are all human, 

all trying to get through our day.