Poem.

Thought of this poem while half asleep.

The wind brought more adventures today.
The high mountains clouded with white snow,
Fields of green covered in purple and pink,
The soil so brown, and the mud so wet,
Forest green with drops of the morning dew.

The wind brought more adventures today.
The stench of mountain clouded with waste,
Fields of green slowly turning to black,
The soil covered in tar, and the mud turning dry,
Forest grey that stood so high and bright.

All from the whiff of the daily wind.

Not sure if it's good. But it's the best I have ever did.  

Giving up.

I am at the verge of giving up. I really really hope this is all the fault of the excessive hormones in my body. My patience is at the limit. Everything I do is only trying to please you, I almost forgot myself. I am turning into some stranger that I don't even know.
I keep trying to remind myself of how good you are and your good points to cover the pain but how long must that last? How long will it take till I get tired of this? How long more will my patience last? How long should I lie to myself?
This is probably hormones speaking but I guess, sometimes, I can't help it. Or maybe I just don't understand you. Or maybe everything is just me and my fault.