Don't look in the closet tonight,
for you may not like at all what you see...

Warm nothing hovers over us,
shouting of a significant insignificance...

Listen, dear reader, to the speed of sound,
silence devastating your ears...

Morning breaks on sweet hills of grace
painting dawn in shades of pink and grey...

Summer stars screaming for an audience,
wanting to sing their song...

Let's talk about art and cliche, my dear;
small font for the weak of heart...

I've got a headache of the simplest kind,
words blocked behind a wall...

Little ticking time bombs
burning in my chest...

Confession: I don't feel well.
This sickness is in my head...

Right now, my dear, you're shunning me;
and I'm kinda a broken mess...

I've been challenged to write a poem,
a silly little poem about you...

It seems like every mirror's broke',
your face always looking back at me...