One of the most difficult things to achieve is to become what the world wants;
It's a great accomplishment to be who you are in a world that is making you something else;
Many people are not who they really are because they want to conform to the beauty of the world;
You now have a chance to say what you feel, because those who mind don't matter, and those who matter don't mind either.
Trying to be someone else is like making a new creation out of nothing, it will be nothing;
It's time to know that everyone else has already been taken, it's time you be yourself in everything;
Don't mind imperfection because it's beauty, madness is trying to be perfect, it's absolutely boring;
You now have a chance to follow your inner moonlight; don't hide the madness of imperfection.
Keenly look at those who are living the lives of their parents, they are older than their parents;
You will end up with a boring life because you wanted to be someone else, you don't deserve that;
Being who you are will invite many people to your life, being someone else will do the contrary;
Of course, people will love you for what you can do for them, and some won't like you at all, so be yourself.
If people love you, they will give you a chance to be yourself;
You will find friendship in people who give you total freedom to be yourself-and moreso to feel;
Whatever you happen to be feeling at any moment is fine with them. That's what real love is;
If I were you, I'd have started being myself even before finishing to read this poem. Be yourself.
The circles under my eyes darken with all the sleepless nights I’ve spent
By the answer I can never be
For my loves haunted by addiction
For all the fragments
I’m wondering if all my empty spots where love didn’t learn to grow are showing
Wondering if only God can love the broken things, if only God can love me
It took three days back in that life to make me question
Of my value
Worried people can see the sadness induced insecurity that’s triggering desperate longing
Craving the wrong places, people and choices because my haunted loves are right –
short term escape is more tempting
But it means murder of who I was meant to be and I’m unwilling to sacrifice everything I fought for
Everything I am
Today it’s a battle of tear stained lullabies and vintage heartbreak revivals
And I may be losing now
But I’ll be damned if I lose the war
Will anybody accept me
See I'm tring to help
That's all I try to do
I can't remember
The last time I was selfish
All I try to do is help
And all they do is hurt me
Well I'm done with it
Fed up with it
You don't want my help
See if I care
All they do
Is cause me pain
I think I'm a good person
I hope I'm a good man
We will see who is happy
In the end
I'll have the woman I love
In my arms
A roof over our head
Food on our plate
And plenty more
that I can promise
And they will
And see if I care
The love I feel is not all consuming. It does not come from a place of fear or hope, rather from the space the keeps my feet from touching the ground.
The love I feel is not all consuming. I have no unfortunate circumstance that threw me into this love. I am not damaged, simply unapproachable.
The love I feel is not all consuming. I do not think of his lips when I drift into a dreamless sleep. I do not compare the passion in his eyes to the burst of light at daybreak. He is a snow drift.
The love I feel is not all consuming. I don't reach out in the middle of the night wishing he were there. I do not read over our texts when he is gone and I am missing him. He is a rock in my hand: something to hold on to.
The love I feel is not all consuming, but I know that if I were honest with myself, I would write of all the times his kisses made me lose my breath, and the days that I spent in his arms, writing his name into my heart.
I call the beyond
the feather light side
I have seen it
held hands with my guardian there
and my Father as I walked
through a vivid garden
in silent paradise
It is so peaceful there
just a lightness of being
I can't help but think that life
this side of the cobwebbed door
is similar to a falling leaf
surrendered in autumn's change
A constant reminder
that we all fall
I tire of welcoming the hours
to get through another day
I am homesick
The feather light side
I call it
It is so peaceful there
I never wanted to leave
least to be here again
I'll close my eyes
And just drift away.
Maybe sometime soon,
You'll be here to stay.
I know it takes time.
Darling, that's okay.
I'll be by your side.
Just don't fade away.
You're scared, I can see.
Everyone around worries you.
Please realize that there is no need
For you to be afraid of me.
You can take my hand,
I'll show you the way.
I won't misguide you,
Or lead you astray.
I won't hurt you,
Or leave any scars.
You can stay by my side,
Like the moon and the stars.
I won't say that I love you.
For that, it's a bit too soon,
But darling, believe me when I say
That I truly care about you.
I'll open my eyes,
You're not by my side.
I'll just drift back off,
Then I can hide.
never strange enough i imagined
that some of my beloved friends,
who I so faithfully adore and admire..
are coequal participants of my life
with those dead poets, singers and writers
who left trace in my heart
and helped me to survive through weird times
thats what i clearly imagined
and i had imagined it for quite long index of time..
i thought when we talk with eachother
there is always invisible presence
of those dead evergreen souls acompannies us
the life served me contrar perspective
what a folly i only was
to think that my dear feelows-artists
have ever deserved my such gentle & sincere treat
like they were as tall as nervous souls like
antonin artaud, camille claudel or arthur rimbaud...
yeah, alas, i brutally failed..
if i look exactlier who is here for me
then the dreary fact reveals
to my deepest mourn
the tragic fact reveals
those dead poets are actually the lone living souls,
while my dear living friends are perfectly dead