You may not like us
it's obvious that you don't...

When busy painting
I often use a language that's misunderstood...

Depression is all I know
I have lived with it for so long...

The times when you hear gun shots go off
night has a way of attracting crime...

When you were laying on the ground
taking your last breath...

A swan was born
down by the riverside...

I never completely understand
that the colors of our past can change...

Specific colors
painting a beautiful rainbow...

Time does not bring relief
the lies you have told...

Grief is not based on numbers
sorrow does not require a certain speed...

I let my worries fall into water
my body leaning against my favorite tree...

Trees are like windchimes
responding to the windsong...