a trail of darkness
left behind

whispers of oblivion surround me
as I rummage through the shadows
to find her bows, black as the sky
it's all she left behind

will I ever find her?
will the light lead me to her?

i is me you are
you they are them together
we are all of us

You should come and pull up just kick back, while you relax
Lets engage that, then create
that, what a wild life
just a shy girl with all the right vibes
can’t replace that

Pull up come kick back, while you relax
We can unpack, then create that
I have a sweet tooth, you’re a sweet snack
Babe it can be us,
make good flashbacks

I spent a lot of time in my life wondering why I wasn’t more like them
less like me and more like those people who are just noticed when they walk in a room
the ones you know are coming because you can hear them before they enter
I wondered why I wasn’t louder
more personal
more likeable, like them
why didn’t I have that way of greeting people and pulling them in as if I really couldn’t wait to hear about their weekend like they did
I worried there was something wrong with me because I didn’t want to be in the crowd, I didn’t want to follow the leader or be picked for the team
I felt like I was flawed because I didn’t seem to think like them, act like them or look like them
I couldn’t keep up or stay in line or listen to the rules as easily
where others fell in place, I always felt like stepping out
It turns out of course, that the answer is we are all human
and my humanness wasn’t meant to be exactly like anyone else’s
and that’s okay
I just hadn’t found the ones who understand yet
what it’s like to be a person shoved inside of a human

in the end, I am declared
guilty

to be free from the chains of contrivance
to finally rely on noble companions
from facade to its truths
born flowers will bore fruit

to be requested release
and to forever deny its reprise

to be loved, and finally to love
and matters not that never mattered
past chains perish, and the future followed
as warm as the sun
forever cursed to bear the fervor

to be chained,

to be denied and drought
as I have done to he
as the moon without its sun

at the start, the only crime committed
was being me

whatever i touch
turns into tragedy—
Midas wishes his hands
were made of mine.

i dare not touch
trees and their leaves—
their old age
will not matter
once i graze their skin.

i do wonder
if everything good
that comes are worthy
of my ruin—
they quickly turn
sour and ugly
once they,
finally,
rest their heads
on my lap
and i am left here,
once again,
picking up the scraps,
telling myself
nothing incredibly,
or inherently, bad
has happened yet.

but what if it comes?

what if the world
decides to put
the blame on me
and punish me
for simply being alive?

should i keep
crawling back
to life?

or should i
accept the fate
i have been given?

My sleep is healing and renewing.    
            Slumbering contently,
I am wrapped, in peaceful comfort
               and divine safety.
         Every part of my being....
  is rejuvenating and preparing me,
                 for the glorious,
                       new day.