In a secluded village embraced by thick woods and towering peaks, the legend of Lila was whispered among its inhabitants. Known for her somber demeanor and eyes that held a hidden sorrow, Lila was a mystery. Rumors said that a curse plagued her after the tragic demise of her parents.

One day, a vibrant young girl named Clara moved to the village. Unlike the others who kept their distance from Lila, Clara felt an inexplicable pull towards her. Armed with freshly baked cookies and a bouquet of wildflowers, Clara approached Lila's ancient home.

To her surprise, Lila welcomed her. The two formed an unlikely bond, with Clara's laughter acting as a beacon of light in Lila's shadowed world. With each passing day, the village watched in awe as Lila's demeanor softened, her once somber eyes reflecting a newfound joy.

One afternoon, Clara gifted Lila a dusty locket she had found in the attic of her new home. As Lila opened it, memories long buried resurfaced. Faces of her parents, moments of joy, and the last smile she shared with them before the tragedy flooded back.

Tears streamed down Lila's face, but as she looked up, she realized she wasn't alone. Clara stood beside her, smiling, proving that love and friendship could heal even the deepest wounds. Lila's lips curved into a smile, genuine and radiant, marking the end of a curse and the beginning of a beautiful friendship.

I jealous the peacocks art

Colors, distinct and bright

Wiggle that feathery tail

Walls, align and act

Here lies the pretty dame

Haughty campaign and pranks

Kick on the silly game

Newborns, asleep, awaits

I cherish the Manakins dance

Steps, distinct and light

Move to the soundless beats

Lek, moonwalk and snap

Here sits the nosy judge

Finicky in taste and calm

So much is done for one

Practice indulged years long

I admire the great roadrunners treat

Date, distinct and right

Its either a splendid meal

Or he coos and wag his tail

Don't give up, she might agree

Together, we can forever be

Keep up the classic steel

Gentlemen, the ladies need

I love the superb lyrebirds voice

Songs, distinct and tight

When he grabs the microphone

Techno beats and 80’s Jazz

Beauties from far and wide

Spectate and vote for one

Talents coerced by zeal

Albums, that forever lives

I adore the western grebes ballet

Footworks, distinct and fast

Defying gravities pull

Walking on water Jew

Hydrodynamic lift

Feet slaps and splash

Lets go, it's me and you

Put on your dancing shoes

A new tailer -painter comes trough town.

With the burned afrodisiac from space.

He knows that the dungeance are lillith brown.

Witch the danger can confirm,

The wicket tongue’s from grace .

I placed a bet on this blemished curse.

Restrain from deep order ,calculated the regid past.

The fues a scandal revives in a silver purse.

My mission to undemine the ponds guest.

I have akward desires playing surface in tangled waves of gold

Deep sense , don’t rush but unfold

What manner is this ,concealed in it’s passion

......

Abroud

Deversed make over sensetivety featured ,

Crows of weezer new age splender of crown

At most to loud ...to brake that shadow frown.

I Spoke the manice of faith.

My pretty heart ,scolled the thought of boheminion prestige .

Fell asleep by the frozen gate .

The saint last resting place .

For i Will know it’s ill name.

You, who laughs like a waterfall, who smiles like the stars are her friends, who dances as if the world will always love you. You, who is beautiful, still as you cry your crystal tears. Plink. Plink. Plink. They drop to the ground and sadly I ask you, “When will you learn to love yourself as much as you yearn for someone else’s love?”

I want to fix

Your broken heart.

I want to

Make you laugh

When it seems

Impossible.

I want to kiss

Your smiling lips.

I want to be

Your brightest

Sunshine,

The one that

Still warms you

Through the

Dimming clouds.

I want to love you.

It's challenging to write without much rhyme,

without much subject, meter, or structure.

Like a fatigued muscle, coming up with clever

 words makes this pen feel like a dumbbell 

and this paper, an unrolled mat

 on which to practice awkward yoga poses

      I suppose.

That is why I create:

to ameliorate

the shade of being alone.

So that when chill rolls down my spine,

I don't feel cold,

I hear notes.

Such that every drop of rain,

and every snowflake

which falls upon my face,

is not felt alone.

But with the shadow of metaphor,

warm to my bones.

Because if shadows and shadows only

are to be

what accompany me;

then I would rather relinquish,

rather tell myself:

they are liberating.

But this is just one reason of many

just one symptom of a plenty.

That I have felt since childhood's hour

and thereafter knelt

in reverence of its power.

It is a wound which tears us apart

yet binds us all.

Singularly separated,

irrevocably connected.

And that is why

while you hold the hand of another

I grasp pen and feather.

When you taste blood

from love bites,

I wash off ink

stains from last night.

But it's no tragedy,

not a sad, theatrical ending.

Some play their characters,

while others are their own.

Some go from heart to heart to heart,

while I make mine my own home.