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Keep happy, sorrowful boy, your fortune will come, just keep your hope. 

pray for strength, pray for mercy, if only truth, could make a sound. 

A mistake, to think your weapon, had no bullets, to shoot out. 

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Keep happy, sorrowful boy, your fortune will come—just keep your hope; pray for strength, pray for mercy—if only truth, could make a sound. 

A mistake—to think your weapon had no bullets to shoot. 

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Playful boys can’t help but run upon ladders that lie flat. 

the boy skips, the boy tramples, his foot is now stuck in a wood plank. 

He struggles, knowing now his fate, a horn is heard, it was a train. 

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The trees dry, the leaves orange, the cold breeze sets in, as fall begins. 

one by one, each leaf descends, I stomp loud, quickly and stressed. 

I find one, laying partnerless, my small paws snatch hold of, an acorn. 

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I type fast, my story rushed, time just spirals, unforgiving. 

I now fear, time is winning, I must go on, now just a twist. 

Never mind, I’ll have you do it, take the keyboard, you end it. 

Beautifully Bitter

Snow falls; cold and eerie, there is a lack of comparisons 

I have it, that old feeling; imagination, mixed with dreams. 

If only, days like this, weren’t two weeks, after Halloween. 

Old Habits

“Keep in touch,” was what she said. A fruity kiss, to seal the deal. 

Satisfied, I let it be, now I feel cold; my fingers freeze. 

The burnt taste, never leaves me, as I recall, old metal friends.