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Snowy, White Hills
Winter marches into the fall every year It is our beginning and our end Christmas and New Years, the most exciting times of the year The times are colder than the most immoral souls of the world Yet they fill our hearts with warmth and joy The snow is a friend of mine, the only…
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Empty Nights
There might not be as much joy as say The exciting life of the beginning’s morn We can all claim to adore the day But the last requiem would not agree | In the day, you work and you play Yet you cannot leave the night scorned The world spins when the sun isn’t away…
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The Empty House
A family of three, two daughters and a mother Step out of the house for one of many times But this time, it will be long before they return The girls go on a trip, far away from home Leaving behind the empty house | The empty house is now hollow and wide This emptiness,…
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Game Over
Why do we love video games? Because of the challenging levels? Because of the unique characters? Because of the lore or the bosses? Or is it because of death? | Death is as expensive as air As valuable as a single strand of hair Death comes to mock us every day and night Pinning us…
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Let’s Do This
My fingers could writhe in agony if they ever saw a piano again My body could never bear sitting still for such a long time My eyes would shoot down any music note with a killer glare My ears would hold the memories of the piano as it guided me through my life Since my…
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Earth is Turning
Earth is turning It used to stop for me during every solemn sorrow Everyone would stop for me until I could get back up And I could lift them up while they were feeling down Yet the Earth keeps turning in the end After I’m done growing, the Earth will be done stopping It can’t…
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Little Things at the River
If you keep running like you’re running out of time, you won’t be late. You will, however, miss out on the little things in life. Like this river. | This river has a glowing, sparkling stream that slowly rushes down the creek. The water shines with a luminescent blue, colored as bright as the sky.…
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Men in Green
The days of the artist are numbered Art is slowly dying in its own war As artists live life free of the shackles of society, free as a bird They weren’t freed; they were given a choice | Every day, artists produce something to entertain the common folk Bringing excitement, horror, comedy, love, and pain…
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Words Of a Feather 