This is some poetry I've worked on in my spare time. Some of it is better and some of it is worse since I've gotten better over time
It's in no particular order, just how I happened to put it in the website
numbers(colours)
It's been the way since I was young,
3 is green and 5 is red
2 is yellow, 4's important
6 is mustard and 7's dark.
8 is water and 9 is sunny
pi is yellow, Euler's grass.
We used to not be friends
I resented the things I have to do
Tap it once, tap it twice
and always end it on the right
when you visit Dad, ring the bell 8 times
don't step on the cracks
step on them a yellow number
do it all over again
you did it wrong, you're going to die.
There's something wrong with my head
normal people don't have to do this?
Deleted
A girl lies awake at night.
she was talking to her friend
It’s not what she says, but what she might
But she deletes it before the message’s end.
The Adult Thing To Do
I was told "you can do anything"
but now I see that's not true
I'll sit and I'll toil for 8 hours a day in a job I hate
because it's the adult thing to do.
Young love is a whirl of excitement
and I experienced it just like you,
but now, I'm content to sit and crush
because it's the adult thing to do.
Every four years there comes an election
and every four years my vote is due
well I'll vote the same party as last year
because it's the adult thing to do.
The doctors say my body's 50
but I turned 39 in June
I won't change my life, I have duties
because it's the adult thing to do.
So my child, happy 18th
and this drink goes to you
one day you'll be just like me
because it's the adult thing to do.
Online You're a Princess
Online You’re A Princess
That’s what you told me.
We talk about skirts and cute things.
Online, because the other guys at college wouldn’t approve.
You said you wanted to be a catgirl.
You said you wanted to cross dress.
I showed you sometimes I am.
I showed you my skirt.
It was soon after that I told you who I was,
a new name, a new identity,
eventually a new body.
I think we’re the same.
Why can’t you see that you can be a princess?
That you can wear skirts and be cute and do what you like?
That you don’t have to be sad.
It’s not my place to say.
If I Could Descend to Hell
If I could descend to hell
I’d tell her it’s okay now
I’d take her soft hand in mine
and lead her from the fire,
wash the cuts from her wrists,
wipe the tears from her eyes.
I’d tell her she’s loved
for who she is, for who she wanted to be
I’d whisper her tales of our success.
Maybe I’d get to see her smile.
She’d fly away with me to the new world
away from the brandishing hands of the righteous
away from the sinners they called her kin
away, until nothing could hurt her.
But I can’t.
She’s six feet under the world you built
after a funeral for the man she wasn’t
I’m gonna go to hell too you know?
least I’ll be free from the pious then.