Medley

If you’re angry, you don’t have to write a poem dealing with the cause of your anger. But it needs to be 

an angry poem. So go ahead…write one. I know you’re at least a little bit angry with me.

And when you’re done with your poem, decipher it as if you’d just found it printed in a textbook and 

knew absolutely nothing about its author. The results can be amazing…and scary.

If my love were an ocean, there would be no more land.

If my love were a desert, you would see only sand.

If my love were a star—late at night, only light.

And if my love could grow wings,

I’d be soaring in flight.

If you hear a song that makes you cry and you don’t want to cry anymore, you don’t listen to that song 

anymore.

But you can’t get away from yourself.

Everything affects everything: More evidence that the butterfly effect exists, and I knew it. This story is the made-up example I needed to convince myself, because I don’t wish to share my belief, in fact, I wish to erase that thought from everyone’s minds, just to see what happens, then, and just then, I will care for what I say and do, even when I have the best intentions, I give the worst impressions.