I like to create. Not simply just write.
I like to create it all in my eyes exactly how I like it. 

It's own quirks and happiness, laughter, problems, failures, heart breaks.

Like reading a book. 
Becoming someone new. 
Going into a new world with new rules, expectations, relationships, with a new plot, a new life hidden with unlikeness. 

I want it all. 

I like to scratch down all these random ideas whenever it comes to mind or sit in English class writing poems like breathing, when I should be focusing on class.

You need to search for the colors. Step back and take it all in as you breathe the imaginative creativity. 

Fall deeper, so you can stretch those mighty wings, leap to the ground and give them the taste of air.

It's a brand new day and you have a brand new smile on your face.
I'll grab you and tell you that you have me.
You can't lie to me because I'm you.
And I can't give up on you because you're me.

And Stop.

Stop this silliness. 

Do not continue to run from death. 
It is the very soil you are running on.

And you call that love?

Are you disappointed in me? Sad too? I ask myself.

No. No. 

You're mistaken sweetie.

It isn't saddening when you don't acknowledge you are wrong. It's saddening when you believe you are in love.

I whine. 

But I am in love.

And who's the poor fellow this time?  





The world.