A Berlin building. Sunbeams of steel
made to shine in suns of future’s gold,
now dreary, dimmed and forced to kneel
to the timeless gods of growing old.

Its shining future could not last.
Sinking in a golden fade, a forgotten grail.
Of sunbeam ore, new futures are cast,
bright dreams unbound by fear’s black veil.

From the forge of steely sunbeams
comes a new grail of sunlit dreams
and the tireless gods’ tired reign
is overthrown for another day.

Jesus, why am i like this?
Why does nostalgia run
Through my veins like
It should be there,
If the feeling leaves,
I would probably miss
It too.

I don't want to live anymore,
It hurts so bad I can't take it anymore.
I fight to survive,
for a life I don't want.
And I whelve on memories,
that I never had.
Somewhere in some other timeline,
I can feel happy without snorting a line.

My beautiful boy I never dated.
Sweetheart that gives me butterflies.
He thinks he is just a boy but he is my
salt in the sea,
warmth that you feel in the summer.
Love that you wish to receive.

Dead trees,
White snow,
Green pines,
And a long way to go.

I have so much love to give,
But none to receive.

For young/new writers,

                                                  The best draft of your poem is the first.

              Self doubt is the number one cause of death in poets,

                                                               So don't drown in worry.

         Swim in it calmly,
                                                      
                                                            Like a swimming pool.