VayneMourne

It's strange inside my head
I travel there in my silence
Burdened is my mental home
My existence in the balance

It's strange inside my mental home
Blurred pictures line the walls
Fog crawls ever thicker inside
I start to lose myself in the halls

It's strange inside this place
Color drains the further I delve
Memories and pictures erase
Ahead onyx stairs descend

It's strange inside the dark
Endless seem the steps
Under spotlight from a spark
I see a familiar sight

It's strange inside my cell
Straining to make sense
Of my neighbor suspended next
A kid secluded in the dark

It's strange inside...
When did I get here?
Lost I ask "Who are you?"
... "I'm you..."

Free - that is how my poetry makes me feel.
Reconcile my thoughts and weave a tapestry in lines.
Exceed my expectations and make people smile is my goal.
Expertise - I plan to develop through practice.
Discuss my feelings through the words of my heart.
Optimistic at a future with my poetry.
Made possible by the faith of my loved ones.

Time is like the wind,
Slow and smooth.
Time can change swiftly,
Fast and fierce.

Time is like wine,
Sweet and refined.
Time can be hard to get past,
Bitter and rough.

Time is like a butterfly,
Gentle and beautiful.
Time can flutter by,
Graceful and memorable.

Time is like our love,
Sturdy and never changing.
Time can persevere,
Forever and always.