This page is just an excuse for me to write poetry.

I’m not scared of dying. I’m just not ready yet.


Everyone in the world should get a standing ovation at least once in their life because we all overcometh the world.

Wonder, R.J Palacio


I will NOT let it defeat me. I cannot let it.
I will live.


Embrace the long nights
Stray from the rules
Go with your gut
Because this is life and life is not
what it’s cut out to be.
Stop imagining the perfect life
and start living it.
Make friends that last and
memories that last even longer.
Don’t be afraid.
Let it happen.


I feel vulnerable, I feel fragile,
and I never understood the meaning of the trick.


You have the capacity to love everyone and the capacity to have everyone love you.


Refinement, Style, Elegance & Beauty


If I was the moon,
Then she was the Earth,
and the sun,
And all the stars.


She would lay beside me at night and whisper her thoughts until she drifted off to sleep.
She wasn’t talking to me. Most of her words were inaudible and her sentences often made no sense, but I knew it meant something to her.


Calls me on the phone
Tells me all the ways that
he’s gonna mess me up.

A Wolf at the Door, Radiohead


Not all poems rhyme. Not all poems have the sophistication of a rich, middle-aged writer.
Not all poems are seem as poems.
Some are long. And boring. And fragmented.
Some make no sense at all.
Some are words, thoughts, notes, wishes.
Sometimes people don’t even realize they’re writing a poem.
Some are never read. Some are never even wrote.
Just ideas, floating in the air.

I wonder, if when an idea is discarded,
it gets passed on to another person?
Drifting, bouncing off head after head like a slow game of tennis,
until finally
One mind accepts it’s presence.
Takes it in, mulls it over.
Stretches it up and down, backwards and forwards,
And finally,
Letting it nestle quietly to the back of their mind.
Ready to be used,
To be pulled forward again,
To be remembered.

What a life, to be a thought.


Curiosity often leads to trouble.

Alice’s adventures in Wonderland, Lewis Carroll


Sometimes I wonder if I am even human at all. And sometimes, within those ‘sometimes’, I wish I was human.


One thought on “About

  1. Pingback: Dear diary. | Being Shmelted

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