sometimes sad poems are rad poems.

march 3rd, 2019 — 2:11 am.

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my eyes never seem to perspire as much as they do staring into the ripples that meant something to me and you.

i advise my allies to take advice from my previous antics,

but alas, you can’t be baptized by the discord of this pond.

in those waters, i searched for diamonds in the rough,

experiencing every movement the water made

memorizing the patterns in which they went.

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but when all things settled and the stillness of the pond remained the only thing in sight,

i found fools gold instead of gems,

reflecting myself as what i’ve discovered.