Posted in Poem

Do you think the sun will like me?

Tell the stars I’m ready to meet them,

The universe I’m ready to Be,

Tell the mountains I’ll never climb them,

I commit myself to the sea.

Despite the allure of grandeur,

The future offers me,

I’m just not strong enough to reach out,

Only weak enough to bleed.

I write because there’s no one to talk to,

So I make up people that do,

I write there hopes and dreams,

And hope they might one day come true.

But I plan for when I’ll drizzle honey light,

Across an inky sky of faded night,

On top of a city full of sleeping souls,

Maybe then I’ll have done something right.


Once I dreamed of a house by the beach,

With a fridge full of cake easily in reach,

A dog by my chair and a cat on my lap,

Ha! Wouldn’t that have been a peach?


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