Read Poem by Riano Harp

Here I am! Swinging, or breathing,
On a branch that is pink or grey
For the lemons were too sweet
And I have bitterness left to taste:
Ah! The wanting itself,
And the mind that sees it as a gem
And the other which resists the gem to be what
May be wanted by the need, itself, it should be respected
What are you? You're light, and I try and be honest
But I forget with a lie and try to describe you
For a reason to be picked- it is to be picked!
When was the title thought?
The seed planted resists——-
A wildfire to be spoken upon, here, here
But it burns too greatly as do the eyes that scorn,
This will be short, before the reason uncovered
(Where is time?) I need to leave but I'm here as I can't,
It's an illusion, you can knock me down with a blink
(as long as the breath is deep)
I have set the tone! All is, so I shall fade
And touch to dust the anticipations
That are already living in my brain,
What a horrible event, called so for itself
And the temptations live in the eyes of those who read.
Farewell, for who is writing isn't that which you read.
It's more…
Read.