Random Poetry

Sometimes

Sometimes, I worry too much.
Sometimes, I wonder too much.
Could it be
That I love too much?

It's strange
But sometimes
In cracks between the music
I hear whispers.

I sometimes think
That if my mom
Could pick a color
She'd paint the world black
With soul-sorrow and pain.

No one really knows
What it's like
To be me
Except me.

If I could paint
To save my life
It'd be a flurry
Of green laughter
Gray poems
The sound of smiles
The scent-taste of confusion and pain.

But I think
I sometimes
Worry too much
I think
Sometimes
I wonder too much.
Could someone
Ever
Love too much?

* * *
Lightly twisting, twirling, spinning;
Round and round through life we
                   go;
But sometimes
         There's cracks
         In the ice
         Beneath our shoes.
         But we always manage to never
                   lose.
Life is like skating,
         If you're inexperienced
         You'll never know which way
                   you'll slide.
* * *

In the dark silent night
Beneath the noiseful streets of woe
And talked with shadows.

Now, some may not know this,
But shadows are great
For talking to when day is late
And as we sat through the
         endless night
We wondered of things
Out there in the bright.

* * *

Shadows

Spinning, black with dark

And fear most perilous

They haunt our every waking hour

Who knows what they

Do at night

When darkness is king?

* * *
I walked a path
Of roads untaken
Through forest dim
Belongings forsaken.
Two roads diverged in woods of yore.
Who took the path less traveled?

To my left, a path fair but worn.
Peaceful, serene, calm before the storm.
The other, black as night and dim,
Was full of untold terrors.

Oftentimes, men have said,
"It's not the destination,
But rather, the journey,
That will teach you."

To which I say yes, but add more wisdom:
The journey's path may lead through peril,
But in the end,
We will receive our due.

* * *

I turn out the lights
And turn on a smaller one
And then I see it only
Magnifies the shadows.
There they sit, with their cousins
Mocking me.
Chained by reality,
They sit and wait
For me to touch them.

I look up and see
The squares of light
Ever present, wherever I go.
The angels within
Are begging me
To reach up and climb through.