I lost it. My gift. It came to be like a pen,
filled with ink, ready to imprint...

Oh well, ni modo.
Gather your tears and boil them with your anger...

pirouetting, dancing
skating through thin ice...

On the table I left a rose
And in each of its petals, notes...

The day a man kneels down to listen up
And hears the heart of Mother Earth alive...

I see the blues in the skies
with every passing cloud...

If you see a man
beaten down on the ground by depression itself...

Hey, pops,
a mob of moms mock mom mopping malls...

Once
I was a happy fire...

Sure, sure!
I was a flower and you were like a bee...

Walking in the aisle, spell bound,
she frowned after tripping over her evening gown...

I always thought that my thoughts were my own
but more often than not...