Their heart is now cold,
Icicle pointed at his.
His blood is warm;
Now coloring snow.
Their winter plays with
A different snowman.
Tag: conflict
Crisis Lines
Adult life sucks.
When you’d have the strength
to fight wrongdoers,
to keep your stance,
you’re just too busy
dealing with your traumas,
battling your demons,
feeling like the one to blame‒
every other day.
Any other day I’d write a wonder.
Not today.
—
There’s no use…
misused.
I could have used
a little help.
—
At times,
I can’t help but cry.
What could help but try?
—
A lot more to say;
This isn’t where I end‒
only where discretion starts.
—
Negatives
Gaslit mind, mine is blind.
Sunlit eyelids, covered eyes.
Afterimage, booby prize.
It couldn’t be any different,
Out of sight, out of mind.
A snap of a finger (hypnotic drive).
Brainstorming impulse; cloudy eyes.
While karma’s a bitch,
trauma is its son.
Creativity is a burden;
It might as well die.
All the photos I refused to take,
All the group photos I was left out of,
Aren’t making it any better;
The negatives neither.
Dead Dreams—Stillborn Goals
I killed my dreams
(and it’s killing me inside).
I killed my dreams. I buried them alive.
I sleep. I’m awake. I fight to survive…
I’ve seen some goals revert
(roll back to dreams).
These dreams never had the chance.
A Prey Does Not Pray
I didn’t put faith in this,
But I realized I was soaring high—
When I saw that I had sunk so low.
I was no bird of prey.
An early bird, but no pray.
And I couldn’t cut it.
Even so, I could have my cake and eat it.
I had a strong
Sense of my own.
I can’t seem to find the right title today—this one will do.
Reveries That I Call Poetry 