New Day

New Day It’s very hard to be a perfectionist Because the very standard I use for me Is the one I use for others And everyone in this system fails, including me Utterly Miserably Which makes me wonder Maybe perfect is not the way any of us should be Maybe I am fighting against a…

Birth

Birth I can feel the poems Some are like angst and depression Some are like joy and peace Some the words flow like the winds Some refuse release   I think those are the best ones The ones  that stay locked in the womb Awaiting just the right moment to be birthed Crying, gasping for…

To be continued…

To be continued… I have embraced everything meant to destroy me I’ve shunned everything that gives me love The recognition of it all isn’t helpful I think I might just need a death, a burial In order to see something new Maybe this blind man needs to view The sunshine that starts the new day…