Upon the wood that was once the timbers of a barn,
the wood that was once a part of the chattering forests of the hills,
I write a letter of the kind of love that gives birth to entire worlds

With one touch you entered my soul,
As if your own body were its key

Through the quiet of the night, shadows dance 
Across the walls of a once happy home 
Echoes of laughter linger in the air 
But now replaced by silence, heavy and cold

Within the realm of love, a girl does dwell, 
Her heart a tumultuous storm, a story to tell,
She yearns for a boy, with feelings so deep, 
But fear grips her soul, her secret to keep. 

Through the quiet of the night, she sits alone, 
Her heart heavy with a burden all her own. 
Her hands, once soft, now clenched in anger, 
Resentment burning, a silent danger. 

In the cradle of her warm embrace, love blooms, 
A mother's heart, a haven of tender care,
Her arms, a sanctuary that consumes 
All worries, all fears, all burdens we bear. 

Into the wilderness, she disappeared 
Forty days and forty nights.
Her body emaciated, her hair withering.
Should she subject herself to such cruel doings?

Roses starve in the greenhouses like sheltered children, Wicked yet beautiful. 
Their contradiction is a fate clinging to the divine, It pains me, this envy 
Not lonely, not wicked,  
beautiful and shunned. 

You left me
Like a lecturer
in an empty classroom

It feels like waiting for a bus 
With no tires or an engine 
No driver and wishing 
Somebody was there 

Love, 
give me a chance to experience you 
to spread my pedal wings and embrace your existence to
crash and fall wherever your fire burns 

A portrait of time.
A frame without a lie.
The stills that tell a story.
A conversation more than worthy.

Why am I a guy?
Sometimes the mind may lie.
I wonder what goes beyond the walls of mine.

What is this?
I don’t recognize it.
This color is a miss.
What am I?
Why do I blend in with the night?

The trees are stained with red
The leaves are bright with brown
All the trees are dead
They whither without a sound

The kinkiness of my thick black hair
Represents my resistance. 
The radiance of my unique smile
Shines like a lighthouse, even in exile. 
The optimism in my small slanted eyes
Showcase my boldness like a letter capitalized.

Screams echo in the void,
“The gunman shot my boy!”
The silence is now awoken,
But the victims' words are forever unspoken.

In files of green and skies so blue, 
Nature’s wonders come into view.
The whispering wind, the babbling brook,
In harmony, they create a soothing book. 

In the stillness of the night, whispers start to bloom,
Like delicate flowers, filling the room.
They carry the weight of dreams and desires untold,
A language only two hearts can hold. 

Dear heart on the ground
Battered and worn
I’ve failed you once again, haven’t I?
You fell five feet from my sleeve and now
You lay there beaten and bruised