Birds rush and are busy
Breaking the days, laden
Twigs have broken, landed,
White clouds sail in breeze,
Sun has spilt, over gleamed
Gold on crest fallen, blue mountain,
Leaves lay with browned, under
Grown green matted grasses—
Whispers of spring.

I wrote on my wrist: Who needs a boyfriend? I have tea!
Tea doesn't mind if I wear my "ugly outfit" and don't put on makeup
Tea doesn't mind if I only watch movies I like for hours and hours on end
Unfortunately, tea also doesn't hold my hand and let me rest my head on its shoulder or send me cute texts that make me smile when I'm in a depressed mood, stabbing and cutting the hell out of the edge of my counter with a butcher's knife because it's healthier than doing that to my wrist.
Tea will be with me in times of Brokenness, but it can't take away the pain like a person could
And I hate feeling like the pathetic cliché "all I want is a boyfriend" type of girl, I thought I was better than that because I was never like that when I was younger but I'm not strong enough to fight it myself and I just really need someone else to hold me
But I have so many burdens I'm scared I'm too heavy to hold
I'd wear my prettiest outfit and makeup, and watch every movie he likes even if I hate it and never say a word about it if I actually had someone to do that for, but for now all I have is Tea
and as much as I love it
And as much as I drink it non-stop
Tea is not enough.

I can't breathe and I don't know who to talk to and I just feel so hollow and lonely. Another one of these moods. It's happening again, and I feel like I'm worthless and living is pointless and I just **am so sick of feeling alone

The racket that shakes the room.
It's loud and irrational too.
You see happy and hear tears.
You can even feel the fear.
Everyone's excited,
For the upcoming years.
But this noise..
It's not calming,
Nor cheerful,
It's confused.

Just leave her,
like you always do.
Isolation is the key
to her recovery.
Humanities Theory for self-discovery.
When veins are slit
is when your theory is questioned...

This night advances past the evening.
The dead moonlight shines in, gleaming.
The tick of the clock is the present sound.
The tea kettle boils on stove, steaming.

A burst of wind punches through the windows.
The candle light's flame no longer shows.
Gently, a sound trees sway through the night.
The tea kettle screeches like a train's whistle.

As shadows crawl across the wall.
midnight moonlight minimally falls.
Light travels down the hallway.
But it dims down and settles as dull.

So many colors on nature’s palette
There are many moods and emotions
Picturesque gallery of many paintings
Forever framed in the travelers mind
Masterpieces cannot be recreated
If we only hold onto black and white
Immerse the soul in nature’s color
Many shades will color the spirit