How does one find the rhythm to write
How does he with the ink pen define
Emptiness so sudden and still rhyme?

I forgot tenth-grade poetry class
My certificate will gather dust
And I will author a tale of heart

Stanzas, lines and rhymes: these I know well
But inside I don't want to reflect
I want to bleed on the page till it soaks red

So how does one find the rhythm of life
How does he make it all rhyme
And still recover his long lost smile?

The day has been long
And the toil has proven hard
But in the end, all for which we have labored,
in whose harvest we placed great hope,
was indeed fruitful
While there were losses and betrayers
We kept firm the lesson in our hearts and minds
and it has guarded us all this time
Even as we bid thee a goodnight
know that just as dark falls heavy on lands over yonder
and similarly harks the call of light come the morn
so must you cherish hope in barren times
that the end is far from thee
for after darkness, a new light ever is foreseen

You’re tired
But you can’t sleep
You’re sick of running
But you can’t  stay
You want to move
But there’s a trap ahead
You want to go back
But you’re many steps too late

Forget me don't forget me
the lone star is aglow
and I fade beneath
its light of sorrow
the same light
that shimmers you so

not from a reflection or from

reliving an awkward *****-up

and feeling my brain crunch

Instead, I saw myself

in a dozen eyes darting mine

and in hushed murmurs with my passing by

I saw my form

in the empty space within four walls

and for the first time in a long while

I sobbed