Category: 09th

I stare and look yet so beautiful
You’re silent but free
I wish I could be that but that can never be me
You go miles and miles yet you die
But start a new life
My beautiful monarch butterfly

Forced to flee
Or chose to run
We pick up our lives
And a new one’s begun
A fresh start
Chapter one
But wait why am I in handcuffs
Why am I being torn from my son
Wait sweet boy I’ll find you one day
All I wanted was a place to stay
I’m shunned away and alienized
But I’m a person like them with a heart and Eyes
Eyes to see the unjust in this world
These people walk by it
And seem unconcerned
Unconcerned for the lives being torn apart
Cause apparently our origin determines our smarts
I was promised a home safe from fear
But now the dangers are unclear

buried alive,
stuck inside
a body with no cure,
little hope,
not much left to give

a record on repeat,
running out of time.
why this body?
why mine?

I read until the very text lines,
Blurred between my eyes
I spent twenty minutes
And thought I could finish,
But instead watched the time tick by.
I could cry. That one sentence
Refused to make sense, I won’t lie,
My brain doesn’t want to cooperate,
Perhaps I need a break, I’ll wait.
But not too long I hope,
I still need to write an essay
On some pope

Oh, how I wish I was a poet,
With a tongue so swift and sweet,
And words so soft and stoic
They would make even grown men weep

And oh, I wish I was a writer,
Who makes worlds just as they please,
In a copper mixing pot
Or a baker’s pan with grease

In that world beyond my grasp,
Where the noble flag flaps in the breeze
Inside the proud warrior’s clasp.

Yet those golden fields lie far away,
So far out of reach…

But oh, these things take practice,
And a person cannot slack,
So I guess I’ll have to pass this,
As those are qualities I lack

Yet the world waits for no one,
And the going is just as rough,
So I guess I’ll start tomorrow,
And try my hardest to be tough

I hate sand
It isn’t grand,
It’s on my hand
Oh, I hate sand

They say the world is an oyster
Which implies it’s a shell,
Which is all fine and dandy
But I don’t like oysters very well

I had once a friend who liked mopping,
And drank soup with great slurp-like popping,
He wanted to teach,
Or maybe to preach,
But he decided to keep on slop-glopping

The roar could send even the strongest to their knees
The air broken by their miserable pleas
Wingbeats that could shatter bone
Able to withstand any blade you hone
Sharp claws tear through skin,
No, you’ll never win.
Flames that cover the terrain in ash,
It’s best to not be rash,
This dragon has no home,
Opting instead to roam,
But others, have a cave,
Deeply hidden in the mountains away.
The large shadow flickers over the grass,
The mountains bow to let it pass,
We can’t do anything but pray,
And stand to fight, come what may.

A fierce breeze with leaves
The powerful surge of storm
Calling the strong-willed