Islands of hope in a sea of sorrow,
trying to avoid those those that are hollow.
Wanting the most, never to boast.
Swinging time on the clock,
wanting to walk down every block.
I’m somebody to no one,
but to the greatest I am a song un-sung.
Floating away with an empty head,
yearning to feel the good instead.
So complex yet the simplest of all kind,
do I call myself simple to unwind?
Unwind those that bind me,
but forget I said that, mind me.
Listen to me because I am right,
look down upon me because I can’t take flight.
Nothing consumes the mind more,
than what’s meant for you behind the door.
People pleaser at its best, never gets a break to rest.
Then again I don’t know, I’m not a pleaser I just row,
along the stream until I see someone in need,
being myself cannot work until I succeed.
Nothing accomplished with what I say,
realizing everything is not to my dismay.
Blamed constantly in a frivolous hope,
calling oneself simple,
won’t help you cope.
(Archived poetry from 2010)