A pain so ruthless and cold,

A story of death untold.

In the face of loneliness and seclusion

He seeks the path of delusion.



Never near, never together,

A silhouette, a shadow forever,

For in his solitude he descended,

On a path of darkness that never ended.



A heart, once warm, now froze,

and its is wake an evil rose,

Desolation followed every stride,

The pain overpowered his pride.



The only light was his will

That never crumbled, just stood still,

And he couldn't decided, will or might,

As he was the shadow, he was the light.

Sometimes I try to remind myself
that all good things
must end.
Sometimes I try to persuade myself
that I’ll never lose
the memories.
Sometimes I try to tell myself
that all I need is
to move on.
Sometimes I try to force myself
to forget how happy
I was then.

Sometimes I try to convince myself
that I’ll meet another
like you.

I wonder why it never seems to work.

Every dot takes a space
millions of dots can make
a straight line
or can create an arbitrary path

Where we are traveling
that can make life simple
or can draw a circle
that turns you again
to your home

Or an uneven line
that creates a sway
where the river moves   
but can't say that
there was no space
before the big bang

Each word has a pour
that impact could be
low or loud  
but some words can make
a metaphor
a poem

Can catch happiness
or sadness
can art an imagery
of nature
life

Or a thought
that can make an illusion
or a fusion between
the love and the hope
that we perches into our soul

Every bits of sound holds an emotion
thousands of bits make a rhythm
that can build a song
whether it's a song of joy

Or sad
or a true loop
that never terminate
thee love of  

Or a rebel tune
that makes a struggle
for the independence
which can make an eternal
freedom song!

If this was a love poem
I’d wind your virtues round my fingers
Like wedding rings
And compare your beauty
To some sort of magisterial
Corner of nature
I’d write about ‘time’s winged chariot’
And I’d send you Sonnets
Cross-cut across desks -
Paper aeroplanes.
If this was a love poem
I’d find all these pretty little parallels
Between you and I
And I’d join our constellations of freckles
With ink chains and metaphors
Until we too enjoyed Paris
In the starlight
Or could afford each other
Rather than flowers
But I won’t write you love poems
Because we studied them for too long
In English class
And wrung all the enjoyment out of them
Like inked sponges
And you said you hated poems
Because they were never written for you
So instead I’ll write about how all I can really think about
Is that I preferred your hair before you got it cut.

she leaves
everything
on a page,
all her sorrow,
her love
and her rage,
and I truly believe
she will write
herself free
of the jailers
who fastened
her cage.

I'm outside,
For the first time,
I can run and run and run,
Wherever I want.

And be myself,
Just a teenaged girl,
Who runs and runs and runs,
Just for fun.

Though it's dark,
My heart is bright,
I run and run and run,
Filled with absolute joy.

I'm just a smiling girl,
Beaming and giggling,
At my shadow,
Cast by streetlights and stars

I will never forget,
The one who helped me escape,
The one who persuaded me out,
The one who showed me the world,
The one who became my first friend,
The one who accepted everything about me,
The one who showed me that I can be whoever I want to be,
The one who convinced me to let my heart out,
The one who gave me my first hug,
The one who laughed with me,
The one who never judged,
The one who never will,
The one who smiled at my joy,
The one who gave me a name that does not lie:
My name is May.
And I was named by my best friend.

I am free.
Free to smile,
At whatever makes me smile,
Free to dance,
Whenever I want to dance,
Free to sing,
Wherever I want to sing,
Free to run,
However far I want,
Free to love,
Whoever warms my heart,
Free to be,
The person I am for no reason,
Other than that it is who I am,
That it is who I will always be,
And that it is the one thing I don't need to explain:
Me