Monday
Oh Monday
Whooaoh
Sunday
or Saturday
You're always there

Screaming like a tiger
Ripping the cables out
Trying to catch the breath
without collapse

Cause every single being
needs your answer now
but no one ever asks
if you're alright

So that's why I'm now
writing this poem
just to let you know
that I appreciate

I AM…

I’m the “no worries, I’m fine”.
But I do need a sign that I will survive each day.
I’m the shoulder to cry on, always rely on, but never learned to play.

I’m the whisper in a crowded room, roses that never quite bloom, a cloud on a sunny day.
I’m a polite smile, “haven’t seen you in a while” and carry on my way.

I’m the game of Solitaire, too much to bear, the lost but never found. 
I’m words unspoken, thoughts of, “I’m broken”, ears without the sound.

The night is quiet, still, and deep,While all the nearby shadows sleep.She opens up a blank white page,To let her thoughts take center stage.Her fingers find the keys to press,And give the words a bright address.The tiny spark begins to glow,As creative currents start to flow.Each rhythmic line is sharp and deep,Unlocking dreams she wants to keep.The focus builds a guiding light,That shines across the silent night.The waiting ends, the quiet breaks,A sudden, brilliant story wakes.She claims the wild and simple thrill,Obeying only her own will.

Old legends speak about the shifting will-o'-wisp,
whose burning tongue speaks secrets in a whispered lisp.
It dances out across the wild and marshy plains,
to draw the lonely hearts away from earthly pains.
As he walks down the street, he sees its glowing spark,
that cuts a path across the cold and heavy dark. 

​A sudden mist had wrapped around the street,
and pulled the solid ground from underneath his feet.
The heavy iron gates gave way with a soft sigh,
as he walked down the path where weary dreams go by.

Sunday morning , cold and forsaken the church doors are all closed.

I think about you alone in your hospital bed.Going over all the things I didn't do and the words I left unsaid.

We walked hand in hand into the trap.I should've known one of us may not make it back. But denial is a funny thing, it can hide the truth from your eyes, even when it's right in front of your face.

Praying on bended knee.Oh God , just one more chance for salvation

Painted by all colours
brightening like the sun
Not most honored masterpieces
nor a world-wide famous plays
would be able to succeed,
to beat the simplest joy of a day

No artist could capture
or reinterpret it for real
There's...
no better music to hear,
no better picture to steal
than a smile on the face 
of your beloved
Lived, received,
kept in memories

Neither art can provide
the feeling of seeing them laugh
replace the "it will be fine" line
as one simple smile
does

Isn't that pure happiness?