No one understands me;
Everyone is against me.
Voices call my name--
Evil, speaks my mind.
Rancor, speaks my fear.
Going like this is an
Onslaught of stress.
Nowhere to run, and
Nowhere to hide.

Anger catches up to me.
Grief overcomes me.
Innocence laments the loss.
Very carefully, no,
Extremely carefully,
Youth pieces my heart back together.
Optimism shines light on my soul.
“Under every cloud is the sun,” it says,
“Up, you will fly, by no terms but your own.”
People become canvases, waiting to be painted.
Nice, clean, bright.

Excellence cannot be achieved.
Very few truly realize this--
Everyone still tries.

Rumors spread like wildfire,
Ganging up on the innocent.
Omnipotent, they seem.
No, they have no power.
No one can extinguish the truth.
Always, it will conquer.
Later, not today, perhaps, but
Eventually.

To be or not to be,
Young people ask themselves.
Optimism has passed them by, it seems.
Under a cloud, they see another cloud.
Down fly their spirits...

On whose terms do we live like this?
We do not want money, we want love.
Never have I wished for sleeplessness,
Never have I wished for--

Even the good fall sometimes, I guess.
Valient are those who,
Even in the face of pain,
Rise again.

Goodness has many disguises;
Old, young, tall, tiny.
Nice is not
Necessarily good.
A good person can be “mean,” while in
Reality speaking the truth.
Understand that a nice lie can cause damage, too.
No, nice is not necessarily good.

A rose by any name smells as sweet.
Reasoning from this,
Optimism says a name is just a name.
Unsure, I consider:
Nothing, it seems, is always nothing.
Devils are devils.
Angels are angels.
New names won’t change what they are.

Dew glints on spring leaves,
Drinking in the sunlight.
Everyone has seen this beauty.
Some will appreciate it.

Every word I speak
Repeats itself in my thoughts.
Think! It won’t hurt you.
You are smart, you are beautiful!
Only you can truly
Understand yourself.