Forty Two

As cold as the sun,
As warm as the snow.

As loud as the silence,
As high as the low.

This could be
the meaning of life,

For all I fucking know.

Imprisoned

We
each
have a
choice

But it
seems
my hands
are tied

My
opinion
I cannot
voice

As my
rights
have been
denied

Poetry

Some pills
make it
better

Some
make it
worse

Sometimes
the only
solace

Resides
in written
verse