Every poem feels as if I’m saying the same thing
Though if by magic they each have their own ring
Like the multitude of designs in every single snowflake
Each new rhyme is an opportunity to create
A chance to fall into Love and away from my hate
As self-pity inducing mistakes keep piling up
But when I’m rhyming, I’m filling my cup
With them good vibes
No need for lies
When the truth begins to reveal itself
A life of heaven and a life of hell
Start to make a little more sense
Remembering about the present tense
As the past and future only exist imaginarily
Now is the moment to grasp my identity
Now is the moment to grow and become me
Even if in the end, its only momentarily

—

Photographer: Alexey Kljatov