THE THING

Silly little thing sitting here starring

You seem so sympathetic, Don’t you?

While idolizing these beings knowing they’re crying

A smirk and a glare you’re half way there, Aren’t you

Compelling those beings with a swift motion

Controlling their every move and memory.

The little things hold a bottle of potion

Devouring the beings, Can’t you see?

Screams and cries that once come from all over.

Now trapped forever in the silly little thing’s mind.

Now the beings that once flourished all over

Are lost forever unless you can find.

The little things hold a memory of.

Laughter from the beings come from above.

I AM POEM

I’m a dried up ROSE

The folded LETTER in a box,

I’m the baggage to your TRIP

The one who holds all your PRECIOUS thoughts,

I’m the SPILLED coffee on the table

The brown DISCOLORATION on the shirt

I’m the OUTSPOKEN conscience

The child PLEADING to be held,

I’m the rock being THROWN through a window,

I’m the child WEEPING in the corner,

I’m the book that NEVER was written,

I’m a MISSED call,

A gun that was always LOADED

But never SHOT.

I’m the bulb about to go OUT

But I would rather be a bird WITHOUT wings

Than try and SOAR.