Tell Me

I had to do it to myself

I tried to feel your grip

Fingertip to fingertip

I failed by the inch

I heard you between my ears

You counted down from ten

I couldn’t reach the fruit inside

Tell me..

How do you fix my skin


Written by Keota Picou

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Wet Wings Drying

Wet wings are drying

Someone should learn this scene

Ready hearts

Steady chatter

Listen as the cicada sings


The wind refuse to blow

While the laughter quietly leaves

Eaten by the eyes of the people

Peeling away a spirit at the seams


Break apart as it breaks the box

Not one of these souls hold to dreams

They instead claw at hope

Resting their woes inside of Keys
By Keota Picou

The Cerebration Of Us

I dance around the memories of the We that you use to be. We melted into a sculpture to be rested in heaven. A yin yang counting eleven and eleven. A wild fire burning from the heart in me. Not even the water from my eyes could wash away the flames at your feet. Your ghost whisper sweet falsities to materialize it’s perversion through me. But We decided that your spirit is still sweet. Ideas of forests with my yang I could see. Not every psychic is pure and no psychic can always see. Truth is stranger than fiction. Possibly stranger than the fiction laid upon me. Every human dies. Every human bleeds. Legacy is of grave importance. Power escapes as we breathe. In truth I stood. Tip toed serenely. In strength I stand with love everlasting 

In My Tree,

Owl

Fell

It hails as

My spirit goes so pale

From the grace in life

She fell

Her pain, her rage, impaled

The One my eyes sought

You wouldn’t believe how real

Unstable delusions

So much left unsaid

No love, no heart, no care

Permanent damage is done

Oh No The One has fell

Hearts break as she crushes them dead

Why enforce such fear

Got to march on

The damage is done

Life is so frail

Our minds

Your molds

Our fears

Left to piece together the crumbs

Lose memories, we won’t.

Because our angel

She has failed


Poem by Keota Picou