Joy planned in order to show appreciation,
A happy glowing room,
filled with 'thanks'
ringing from wall to wall.
One alone,
sitting in sadness,
unsure why these feelings came to be.
Could stress have caused this?
Why must it rain every drop at once?
Rather than a quiet trickle,
of unnoticeable blues and grays.

Shards of broken pieces,
Rays of light pure and never dulled,
petals of lost romances,
drops of dew,
blades of grass,
whispering their tune
to the nearby trees,
as the wind passes through.
Tears of past woes,
cheers of joyful times.
Poems hold these moments,
framed in eternity.
Immortalizing our recollected sentiments.

Music is another form of art,
but is it that different from poetry itself?
Words with meaning flow from the singer,
Just as the poet speak's their words and they are coated deeper reasoning.
Music is wrapped in sounds,
that are taken to heart.
Poems are wrapped in written words,
read and loved by the heart.
How do they differ?
Are they not the same?
The only comparative difference is the sounds that are heard
and the way they are sung.

I have tasted happiness,
and nothing quite compares.
Once you have drank from it's waters,
there is no turning back.
For a long drawn out time,
Shadows of darkness had swept over me,
engulfing me.
Happiness penetrated those sentiments,
allowing rays of happiness in.
But these rays are fading as quickly as they came.
I long for them to stay,
long to rest in their comforting arms,
knowing that they are permanent fixtures.
But this is not true,
and they continue to fade,
and    s   l   o  w   l   y
D   I   E   S
A  
   W
             A  
                  Y

So much time had passed,
Since I last felt sorrow this deep.
So much time had passed,
Since I last felt it's intensity.
Why do my sorrows drown me?
And my joys elate me beyond belief?
Why must woes taste so bitter,
And happiness so sweet?
Recently my joys were all around me,
Surrounding me like rays of fresh sunlight.
Now darkness slithers into the deepest crevices,
And how I know it's misery.
I wish to feel the warm winds
Those that ride happiness,
A calming air.
But only a drizzle of tears will come.
It's droplets scorch my skin,
As they fall,
Wishing to bid them adieu,
I rub my cheeks.
sadness and I are old acquaintances,
leaving me as a victim of this relationship.

I am numb to such emotions.
I do not cry at funerals.
I do not feel sorry for the lost.
I can understand the sentiments buried on their face.
I can feel the pain they show,
but I do not feel it in my own heart.
But today I cried for a friends loss.
Something I have never done.
I wanted to help her,
to ease her suffering.
I did not cry because I felt her loss,
nor did I pity her.
I felt betrayed,
and selfishly mourned for myself.