Born to the clapping of hands 
And cheers and quickening of pace 
To see the shining hope for the land 
That came with shrieks and cries and scrunching of face 
“We must haste! And mustn't forget--” 
“Long Live the Queen!” 

In shadows deep, where darkness takes its throne,
There blooms a rose with petals dipped in sin.
Its beauty, like a siren's haunting tone,
Beguiles the soul, where wickedness begins.

In the quiet moments of dawn,
When the world holds its breath,
Beauty tiptoes through the silence.

Wide-open petals, 
Softly shimmering morning dew, 
Beauty, breathing in light.

In the garden of twilight,
where moonlight weaves through shadows,
there blooms a flower of sinister allure.

Softly falling petals, 
Lovely murmurs in the breeze, 
The subtle beauty of nature. 

In beauty's realm, where wonders softly sing,
Each fleeting moment, a masterpiece unfurled.
In whispered sighs, the gentle zephyrs bring.
The scent of roses, love's own sweetest world.

In beauty's dance, where time and dreams entwine,
Each curve of grace, a portrait's tender stroke.
As dawn's first light on dew-kissed petals shine,
So does your essence, in every word you speak.

Dear old man, parked constantly besides the road,
Calling dirty steel and cold ceramic
The place of your personal abode.

Endless longing grows, 
Love twirls in toxic tango 
Reaching, they both fall.

You stir something deep within, 
Igniting a fire, 
Then leaving it to dim. 

Love is a cage that makes us brave 
Pushing us to be vulnerable; 
Trying something new 
a cage that makes us enraged 

When we were young, our souls were bold,
Excited for stories yet untold.
Carefree days, laughter filled our minds,
Life's moments turned into memories we find.

I will never have two bull’s-eyes
Shooting direct daggers into the retinas
Of masculinity

Bear trapped in backbend
Posture poster child for
Un-gracefulness
Statue of David, meet
Three-legged Gazelle
Shaking, un-swaddled new born
Struggling to cement pose

After school, there are citrus hues
And the tension flares between us
At least,
That’s the spark of thought
Rubbing against my wooden brain 

Young Mary had a lamb,
A baby like she was,
Soft fleece of an innocent,
Wrapped around her heart.

If I understand correctly,
I’m supposed to chuckle quietly like a princess
Place my hands in my lap
Seal my lips 
Nod though I may disagree
But the same people are telling me that it’s okay to be me?