Reid@YWP

Restrain the roaring voices 

to prevent the foreseeable fights 

filled with rage and hatred 

that could permanently appall 

the people of this world. 

Lips must sculpt more smiles, 

and—

time
(itsoveritsoveritsoveritsover)
stops.

there

are
tears
in
your
eyes,
mascara
smeared

Can there be a house without a home?

Can there be a king without a throne?

Can there be a priest without a faith?

Can there be a ghost without a wraith?

Can there be a hero, without a quest?

The West Wind is a banker in a smart navy suit and a tie. His dress shoes clack on the pavement; he’s got someplace to be, always someplace to be, rushing to the sidewalk, the subway, the elevator, checking his gold Rolex watch.

Today was a fairly good day. I love myself. I love my life. Read this next time you're in anguish. I'm watching October slip by like fall leaves on a dead tree. I need to find something else to do besides watching the time pass. I have no energy.

I come here to

express myself

semi-anonymously,

but freely

and happily.

My laptop is

bombarded with

tabs, one of which

is YWP.

Always.

I may not

write a poem