Some Poems

-Just a few little thoughts and feelings I scrapped together-

First Poem.
“Filled up.”



I’m filled with hope,
I’m filled with glee,
I’m filled with sorrow,
And sympathy.

I’m filled with happiness,
I’m filled with logic,
I’m filled with gratefulness
And a tad neurotic.

I’m filled with love,
I’m filled with warmth,
I’m filled with opinions,
I’m filled with heart.

I’m filled with thoughts,
Of what could be,
I’m filled with dreams,
Yet still loyalty.

I’m filled with longing,
I’m filled with satisfaction,
I’m filled with honesty,
Different moods, different actions.

I’m filled with all these things,
Inside me,
And sometimes when things happen…
Big things,
Surprising things,
Terrifying things,
Saddening things,
Angering things,
Difficult things,
Confusing things…
Sometimes I feel
Like I’m going to
Overflow.

Second Poem.
“Circle.”



A
Circle.
Round, and
Perfectly shaped,
Never out of its order,
Never out of it’s place, but
Sometimes the circle will break and the raw, terrifying edges
Will appear so suddenly,
You don’t know what
To do with them,
Except learn
How to deal
With the
Unusual
Truth.
Nobody’s a perfect circle.


Third Poem.
“A Face in the Crowd.”



I’ll be talking; talking like normal,
About the
Weather.
It’ll start off
S
L
O
W
And proceed
S
L
O
W
But when I see you walk by,
Like you always do;
You always walk by;
Then my speech startsto slur togetherandIcan’t makeouttherightwords
AndIfumbleandstumbleandsoundlikealunitic
butit’sallworthitbecauseIfeelsohappyandenthusiasticwheneverIsee
Your face.


Fourth Poem.
“Rule the World.”



Have you ever wondered what would happen
If you could change the world?
If you could turn it inside out, fold it around,
Stretch it or bend it however you could?
You could make people adore you,
And hate who you hate,
And everything would be
In its
Exact
Perfect
Place.
No homework, or drama queens,
Or those awful,
Pesky,
Stinging bees
That you’re allergic to.
It will be fine, and perfect,
But what if perfect
Isn’t really
p
erfect
At all?!
What do you do then?
You could re-
Re-
Re-
start, but that might
Even be worse,
You could try,
and try,
and try,
AND TRY!!!!
But it’s no use, it’s already cursed…
What would you do if
YOU were in charge?
And you lost control…
Do you still want things perfectly,
Exactly,
Correctly,
Your
Way?
I don’t.


Last Poem.
“Superficiality.”



Superficiality.
Seven syllables,
Fourteen letters,
Scribbled in my navy blue pen
Illegibly.

Depth.
Noticing details, wondering what
They could mean.
Could they mean something?
Expanding your thoughts.
Reading between the lines.
Thinking,
But not just thinking.

Really thinking.

Do you really think?