Image by Deirdre Gautreau on Pixy.org

A poem is a gift to the self
I write for myself above all else
There may be an object of Desire
or a muse by which I am inspired
I may gift a poem to you
You may keep it or share it, too

Yet the poem that has spawned
Belongs to me all along
Not selfishly but intimately
My poem is a part of me
Without need of your approbation
Without need of your admiration

You don’t have to understand
What I write nor who I am
Because this poem is my seed
I distinguish it from other weeds
Whether it bears fruit or not
My poem is what others are not

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Photo by Andre Mouton from Pexels

I cut the dragonfly’s wings
So she couldn’t fly away this time
I shall keep her around
Long enough to see
what she looks like
When her colors are not so vibrant

I must have everything I want
To realize that it will never satisfy

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Photo by Esperanza Doronila on Unsplash

My head is hard
My heart is too
That don’t mean
I don’t love you

I talk so much
Can’t hear a word
Makes you feel
Like a caged bird

Wanna fly away
Wanna be so free
Get far as you can
Far away from me

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Photo by Yasin Yusuf on Unsplash

You got it all wrong, alright
You didn’t put up a fight
You told yourself one day you might
You were so afraid not to lose
That you chose not to choose
But you still choose when you refuse

You put out your safety nets
Not willing to face the threats
Now you’re stuck with those regrets
You lost all your old friends
And gained new fears instead
Now that’s all that fills your head

Look back on your selfish ways
Look back on your wasted days
Look back on this cowardly phase
Now say what you didn’t say
Regain what you gave away
And radiate love here today

(Written 2013)

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Photo by Adam Flockemann on Unsplash

I thought we were living in paradise
But you were the devil in disguise
I thought you offered me sweet nectar
That turned out to be sweet lies
The fruits we shared were all rotten
I just never noticed all the flies

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