A Letter to Myself

One day, you’ll come across something so beautiful,

your lungs will forget it needs oxygen for you because

they want to gift it to this life.

 

One day, you’ll hold the hand of a love

while looking into the eyes of a fragile

being, and you will finally understand

the importance of being strong for those

who are delicate.

 

One day, you’ll live a life to be proud of,

not one you want to throw away like

last weeks leftovers.

 

One day, you’ll smile because you’ll have

purpose, all you have to do is allow the

time to get there.

 

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Monster’s Shadow

I don’t always know why I walk in the monster’s shadow. Just that it seems like a good refuse from a blinding sun, a place to cool off after running for so long. I don’t know why I walk in the monster’s shadow, but it draws me in like a magnet, then holds me in the dark just long enough that I don’t think I’ll ever see light again.

 


Check out my book, The Four Stages of Poetry, now available on amazon.

Half-Dead Beauty

Death is not beautiful

when you’re actually dead.

But barely living

in half-dead trees,

half-dried roses,

and deathly thin models

it’s often alluring.

How ironic that

fallen leaves,

broken thorns,

and ruined bodies

are considered beauty

but death is only pretty

if you’re barely living.

 

Wonderland

I lost myself when I fell down the rabbit hole,

obsessed with time, the future held in a

stopwatch pocketed by no ones hands but

my own. I look through the eyes of the hatter,

no need to get high with the caterpillar to see

illusions within the mirror. I’ve always dictated

this heart, but the kingdom is failing, derailing

heads of hope is the only way to cope with this

downfall.