It is rare that crystals
will trail down the mountains,
the valleys, the hills, and the caverns
of mine from a place of sight
A Buttercup that has been told
to SUCK IT UP
becomes unwilling to release
the dew that gathers within
it's delicate petals
Yet as the crystal dew is kept trapped
It accumulates till
sight is blurred and
petals strain
So plentiful is the crystal dew
that it shreds tired petals
and floods all in its path
One must wonder that had
Crystal flowed often in gentle streams
Or the Buttercup told to let it out
One must wonder if
Perhaps the consequences
Would not have been so
DEVASTATING in the end
YOU ARE READING
Pieces of me
PoetryThis is a collection of poems. Small pieces of my own mental puzzle. You may find my pieces familiar and see pieces of your own puzzle in them or perhaps you won't. Whether you do or you don't, my hope is that you come away knowing that there ar...
