clouds shield us like a blanket from
sol’s irradiated glow
rain drops on us like sacred tears
so that we may still yet grow
Category: Poems
Fake It
I’ll fake it
Till I take it
Too far
Till I make it
Bizarre
It’ll make me
A star
And I’ll gleam
From afar
Then I will fade
It will seem
That I’m being unmade
Thoughts displayed
And laid bare
Either foolish
Or brave
Or a slave
To a chain
That’s constricting my brain
I’m insane
I’m unravelling
Can’t stop this pain
There’s a stain
On my hands
I can’t seem to scrub free
Woe is me
I’m like “Woah”
To go fast
I first need
To learn to go slow
Go below
Sink into the darkness
I seek
An absolute darkness
Far deeper than sleep
A place where it’s quiet
Where I don’t need to think
And here where it’s quiet
If I’m brave I can find it
The wick of a candle
I need only to
i ran
there was a time
when i was so frightened
i started to run
i ran and ran
years passed me by
and i kept running
until i stopped
to cry
Punching Gravel
i’m so sad
that i want to punch gravel
until the flesh of my hands
is stripped away
and only bloody stumps remain
bones snapping and crunching
mangled remains
useless now
i strain and i scream
because it hurts so much
i have no hands left to punch with
and i’m still so sad
Skies Grow Dark
Skies grow dark and spirits darker
The sound of fury turns to laughter
The sound of laughter turns to screams
Those screams now wake you from your dreams
Kind of Dramatic
I’m sick of this feeling
Of not understanding
The things that we’ve been through
The things we are planning
And where I fit into
This complex schematic
Better draw me a graphic
‘Cause I’m getting frantic
And panicking makes me
Act kind of dramatic
Like I’m in a movie
Surrounded by actors
Each part that they’re playing
Is one of the factors
Of the equation
I can’t understand it
Must’ve missed school that day
But it’s not like I planned it
The Door Strains
This door strains
It constrains
That which dwelleth beyond
In a star-shining nebula
So beautiful
The sight of it drives men mad
And then where would we be
Witherbank
Reeds and Trees,
Mirrored by the water,
Darkened and muddy,
Each distorted reflection,
Looks down and wonders,
What if we are the ones,
Rippling on the surface,
Of some other river,
In an upside-down world.
im not
im not sad
im just tired
im not tired
im just sad
im not sad
im just mad
im not mad
im just bad
at this
A Single Spark
A single spark
From striking blades
On some battlefield
Distant;
In both space and time