There is no universal clarity, no absolute guidelines we must live by
In retrospect, it’s hard to tell if life is a surreal event or a somber occurrence
Is oblivion melancholy or indifferent to our existence?
Perhaps reality is an optical illusion, a paradox for something bigger than us
Do the embers of twilight glow so ethereal, or frivolously fade?
The symphony of this dystopian fantasy must at once come to an end
We are nothing more than an elaborate...

I.
Poetry is nature
It is the snowflakes that fall in winter and the tulips that bloom in spring
It is every blade of grass and each drop of dew
It is both spiderwebs and the spiders who weave them.
Poetry is fickle, fluid, friendly
Poetry is there when you find yourself alone
Poetry is your imaginary friend from when you were seven.
Poetry is seeing the beauty in the unknown
It is finding the patterns of the universe and...

Just because I am quiet in school
doesn't mean that I am shy and have no friends,
or I'm sad or scared or smart.

Yes, I am these things,
but not everyone like me is.
Just because they're true sometimes doesn't make it okay to assume.

I am "different" from other people my age, like different things and have different interests,
but that doesn't mean I'm "quirky"
or I'm trying to stand out, to be special.
So what if I...