Every line in this poem
Might not flow and rhyme,
But I hope it makes
Sense to you over time.
A beautiful thing happens when we leave men to cry without judgment.
A year ago, I had spreadsheets full of goal, and I would have beat myself up had I not achieved those goals
Stop sneaking bites of the poisonous apple for there will be no Prince to bring you back to life with a kiss
I’m sorry that you had to listen to us sing
Knowing that the lyrics weren’t meant for you
The whispers of war
And the forthcoming doom
Like a rain laden cloud
Dance around her head
Like African cultural dancers.
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Who then told these stories?
It couldn't be the already fallen
Because they don't have the power
To break as much as the living does.