Last time I Wrote poetry
I was depressed and 16
The shit life would throw at me
Got stuck inside my seams.
In these pants of life
I continued with a fear
These mass amounts of strife
No one would care to hear
But then there came a moment
When rain meant shine would come
The day on bay I spent
A guy I deemed the one
Would melt the blocks of ice
Surrounding the snowballs
That blocked it once or twice
The heart that sank to fall
now gravity felt good
John Mayer knew this not
The feeling that would
Make fools out of robots
Last time I wrote poetry
It was 11:34
My love was sleeping sickly
And I wished I could do more.
From 400 miles away
We connected in our spirits
With love that came to stay
That multiplied in its purest
I prayed for opportunity
Good health and maintained love
A move somewhere near January
Blue stars and turtle doves
To establish independence
To be there for support
Rewarded with some cents
A grown up of some sort
She who followed the voice
Within her heart and soul
For the next time she would write poetry
The world wouldn’t be so cold