Prompt: The year is 12023, you are writing your...

When I first laid a bite, I saw black and white;
a bunch of bright stars. What a delight...

In this 32 degree fahrenheit
alley of life...

Scattered around a field of daisies
a little bird, without a fear...

In the roots,
I find my past feeding from the present...

How lovely are the days when flowers bloom
but also when the rain comes dripping down...

Where are the meter writers hiding at?
just hit me with a poem in iambic...

With lips that kiss my lips till I'm left with
With nothing but a crave to be just with...

Sometimes,
I feel like an old soul trying to find rest...

This journey of words that my fingers trek,
it's something more than just a trip, I take...

Sometimes love,
I feel your shouts like hammers knocking down...

Stress
please quit stressing me up...