When I'm lost inside my mind
and there's no way out
from the deep dark strikes
of my pen
I remember the blue sky.
Nothing could be worse
than this feeling
never passing by.
I'm lost in a fury of my emotions
and I forget who I am.
I don't like the person I remember
I was when I was so angry that 
all I could do was shake and swear.
But you remember the me that's always there. 

My soul is made of green fire
road-mapping its way through
my body
like roots
sprouted
from the hair
of Mother Nature herself.

When I breathe
I fuel my own fire.
I speak words of lightning, 
calm like thunder.
My rolling soul never rests, 
but is never uneasy.
My heart is at peace. 

You can wear all the makeup 
you want; it's your face.
But don't ever cover
the bags beneath your eyes. 
You earned them:
your badges of strength 
and never-giving-up-ness.
Wear your gray bags with pride. 

If I could choose a way to die
it would be by a fir tree
growing from my lung.

At least I would give life to something new, 
something beyond me.