I die a little in resistance
At every thought of you
The foolish heart in its persistence
Still clinging to what it can’t afford to
At every whisper of your presence
It still screams grief of every hue
But there can be no uncertainty in my existence
Sometimes the worst things can be true

Re(sponsibility) Quest

I shall tell a tale, I shall
Of a princess and her crown:
The crown just went about its day;
The princess thought it beat her down

As these tales are wont to go,
The princess sought advice
From witches three, who rhymed everything,
And always said it twice

So the witches said “dear girl, dear girl
Was never more a fool?
Was never more a fool or churl
In all this kingdom’s rule

In all this kingdom’s rule, we swear
Never have we seen
The crown that put you on to wear
No, never have we seen!”


I keep telling myself that it won’t work
Our dissonance is clear
You want to turn the music up
And I, just low enough to hear

You say how much there is to gain
And I, how much to fear
But one point on which we can agree
Is how much I love you, dear.


Daily writing prompt
When is the last time you took a risk? How did it work out?

Years pass by and still my eyes
Darken at your name
Hurt would be a fair surmise
Closer would be shame

You played me, I don’t deny
But not all is as it’s told
If you’re the snake, then why is mine
The blood that ran so cold?


I can’t be the same for everyone,
And that’s something no one understands
As they tell me just to be myself
And give the facts within my hands.

But the truth is how it is presented,
And I don’t know which way is right;
All I know is that I’m drowning,
And my instinct is always flight.


Am I arrogant in my confidence
That different rules apply to me,
That I am not what is presumed
(Though I’ve proven I may be)?

Am I wrong to look at others
And see them for what they’re worth,
And know that it is greater than
The profit of my birth?


I can’t stand another moment;
I can’t bear never feeling free.
I want to forget about the quotient;
I want it all, instantly.

I suffer in the silence;
I feel like someone ought to see.
I lost the truth some ages since:
It’s not about me.