you tell me of all your grand adventures
and how all the lights of the city look so peaceful
from far away
you boast of dazzling sunsets and gorgeous sunny days
but i want to stay inside
the city is dirty and the lights hurt my eyes
i never want to see the sun set because endings are too sad
and sunny days make me sick
i want rain
i want to be able to cry outside and let the floods wash away the pain
"but life is so beautiful on the other side" you said
and i looked into your eyes and with a bitter tone i whispered to you
"i don't ever want to watch the sun set"
it was then i realized i had been watching it gradually fade
the whole time
i used to cut
because i was angry at myself
and i was angry at my parents
and my friends who honestly weren't good at their "job" of being said friends
and everything else in the world that didn't benefit me.
i hated myself
and i still do
but maybe less than i did then
because i'm not as angry at myself
as i used to be
and the last time i cut
was in may
and those "friends" don't talk to me anymore
but my parents still make me absolutely livid sometimes
but what can you expect?
the world makes everyone mad sometimes
and i really wanted to treat it better than it treats me
"kill 'em with kindness!" like dad always says
but it's kind of hard to do.
it's like the one kid who picked on you
and called you fat when you were in kindergarten
but when you told the teacher
they cry and say that you were mean to them first
except the world can't cry
and the world can't talk
and i guess the teacher is the sun,
and if you think of it that way,
the sun is going to blow up in a few billion years
and then the earth will be dead
and you will be dead before that,
so i guess
that it's better to be optimistic
even when you're angry
because when you're angry
and upset at yourself
or your friends
then you get hurt
and your parents get hurt
and your friends get hurt as well
Shimmering gleams of hope
Dance across the shadows.
They show no fear and neither do I.
I know there are only good dreams to come.
Tell me I'll prosper.
Their silent hints make me
Hopeful and rosy.
I've danced with the devil
On many occasions.
He's convinced me I'm home,
But I know that he's wrong.
I'll follow my heart and
Always see the sun.
For the shimmering gleams dance
Across the shadows of my soul.
My momma always said
"it's not how big the suitcase is, it's how much you're willing to carry",
and I carried your bag, with its patches
knowing inside was your dirty laundry, that you slowly aired over time.
Even your broken bits, and holed jeans became sacred to me-
the smell of you left after on my skin,
but, you never let me unpack the whole bag,
always kept a side compartment up your sleeve.
And my arm slowly became numb,
when I realized that I still held mine,
even though the clasp was broken-
bits of me strewn about, laid bare for you to see
Though you did help fold nicely,
you handed my pieces promptly back to me-
I wonder if some fibers stuck, some little bits of me,
like your neighbors dog's hair on your shirt
does my smell come back to you in a rush,
the feeling of our fingers brushing as I handed back your bag?
We are parting at the fork, both taking our separate things,
but are you giving up, or is this a temporary farewell,
before you fly through my door,
throw off your shoes,
set down your things,
and proclaim "sweetheart, have my bag, I'm here to stay!"