Rain

You inhibit the raindrops

From pouring out of your eyes

As clouds in your mind thunder

And you feel your heart surrender.

You know if he senses emotion

He will escape in revulsion

Because he evades all types of attachment

In fear of the inevitable disappointment.

He does not understand the sensation

Of dancing in the raindrops formulating around him.

It reminds him that he too is merely human

That he too can endure such desperation.

But mostly, it reminds him that you are real

That human connection is a learning process

And you cannot estimate its failure or success.

Inconsideration creates exasperation

The clouds explode in the collision

Tears flow savagely onto the stone

That once used to be your heart.

The storm departs;

You are alone.

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Mirrors: A Reflection

 

What if mirrors were never created?

Would we all be differentiated?

Would categorization based on appearance be common,

Or would we be united, all humanity as one?

If everyone around you, you could perceive

But your own face you could not retrieve

Would that make you humble, or full of pride?

Would you let society dictate your every stride?

Or would you embrace your freedom?

We are more than just a sum

Of the parts that make us a whole.

The most fundamental element is our soul.

If mirrors did not exist,

Neither would our fists.

Instead, we would extend our hands

To embrace all of human kind,

Against discrimination we would stand

To our dissimilarities we’d become blind.

The world would know no hate, no destruction

For we would be too occupied in self-reflection.

 

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Self-Fulfilling Prophecy

The greatest struggles a writer must face

Are the placing of words in the correct place

Are providing the fuel to light the fire

Are creating immortal ideas that inspire.

Then comes the self-deprecating expedition

Where one knows not where to end nor begin

Where perfection is sought, but none exists

Where the desire for satisfaction persists.

Finally, the writer must divulge the revelation

That what they seek they can never achieve

That it is better to accept than to deceive

That self-fulfilment is merely an aspiration.

There are a multitude of ways to craft a sentence

An unlimited number of adjectives to utilize

An endless array of vocabulary and tense

An infinite amount of characters to disguise.

But the writer must awaken to the reality

That such thought processes lead to misery.

One must pick up the pen and begin to rhyme

And watch their destiny unfold in due time.

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