You say this life is yours,
that you are its master and slave...
A contemplating angel
singing only to him...
Do you ever really know
the person that you love...
Autumn wind rushes
between summer and winter...
Can you hear the poet's whisper,
echoing through pages of metaphorical pain...
Dealing with my inner self
I've learned and grew...
Never did he tell me,
that life would be this way...
Here I sit,
on the edge of the Earth...
Sweetheart, I don't want to
shower you with another platitude...
Can't sit still in these stupid desks
cramped in classes kept closeted...
If someone could read my mind,
Oh what sight that would be...
I didn't ask to be born into this world I didn't...
yet there I was; vulnerable and lost...