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Summer’s dew tastes like peppers 

Fall’s dew tastes likes mushrooms

Winter’s dew tastes like mint

Yet loved more than most 

Is spring’s special dew

I don't really know what I'm doing.

But I felt like I had to write something, 

so here it is;

here is my 

weak attempt at writing something

that could make somebody else feel a bit better.

Walking through the woods

I met a woman

With spring in her hair

Not flowers with colors that overwhelm

Not sunshine so bright it burns

Stop biting me 

You feathered bastard 

I don’t have food for you

Stop starving me

You smooth skinned bitch

Why did you roll your eyes
When I was stabbed
Purely for who I am
For who I love 
You know I didn’t deserve that

Rain on me 

Oh rain on me

I have no shower

So wash my hair

Make flowers spring from my scalp 

To cover up the smell