poems maybe everyday

crowds

caution signs are everywhere

I'm on unsolicited ground

there's roots pulling me back

from the crowds that sit in the background

but my head is moving forward

when it's guided by the sound

my wishes go unanswered 

nobody really understands

now the crowd, they're all people

crawling short behind seas

they say they carry different personalities

but won't cross any boundaries that they themselves have set

my shell, body calls out

carved, sculpted, molded to what will fit perfectly in their tinkering hands

next to the palm trees is where I sleep

hiding cowardly from the meadows

but the palm trees are weak

and the beach is not sustainable

"I don't know where I stand"

they say as they stand in line

they'll talk without emotions as you question all meanings

after crying themselves to sleep

sea legged to this life

burly hands will wipe water from their perfect faces

sing lullabies, but no Lilith byes

because all my demons are still present

indents lay on their faces

the crowd, I mean, the crowd

where they keep tallies and count

how many tears were lost that day