and then there are those days
when one minute your smiling
enjoying the gleeful moments,
wishing the day could never end
and then the next minute
you become a gloomy stew of sadness and pain
crying out for someone to hear you,
someone to relate to.
you begin to break down,
piece by piece
you remember the flaws
and you want it all to end
you dont want to do it
but its the only thing to do
though no one knows your internal sadness
they soon wont be able to fix whats been done
they all come together
as a deadly force
that can and will take my life
and they call this
The world Is your playground
The moon's smiling at you
Life is tremendously short
You are an imperfect creature
Politicians are stilling from you
Terrorists want to kill you
There is no Heaven only dirt
Do you want to live forever?
said the Gardener to me,
tending to a creeping thought
and watering the sea.
I replied, no, but thanks, you see,
I'd rather be a tree.
And spread my branches out
shelter creatures underneath.
A tree? A tree? He whispered tentatively.
Why, I can't remember what it be.
That word. That thought. That memory.
He shook his head and shrugged at me.
(So I scratched a crude drawing in the dirt
and The Gardener squatted there pondering at it a while,
robes lifted up above bony knees)
But I do that too, said He, jumping up quite suddenly.
Pardon me, but I just see no need - No need to be a tree!
Just beg a princely role of me
and I shall fill your fantasy!
I said, thanks, but well, you see..
I'd rather be a tree.
He paused for quite a while.
Then said okay, a little hesitantly.
Then said that he would not be that okay
until he sees these silly things called trees.
And until he sees the purpose of the thing it is
that means so wonderfully much to me
want to be a tree.
So He turned me to a tree and put me in a park.
Where couples came and families
and cuddling lovers in the dark.
And colored birds were friends to me
and I sheltered all of them beneath.
And spread new life through little seeds
and quenched the world its need to breathe.
And in the autumn dropped my leaves
to feed the insects in the weeds.
I stretched my roots in
luscious ground and saw such beauty all around.
old and happy as only a tree
could ever wish or hope
And then one day I saw a face, quite out of place, was watching me.
And He said..
You are very naturally a tree
and have done so extraordinarily well in green
that I will leave you be to live your dream.
And as he walked away, it seemed
he smiled happily back at me.
I have this ache, Doctor. And so far, no amount of drugs or drink have been able to cure it. Where does it hurt, you ask? Why right here, Doctor. Right here in my chest. It started feeling odd when I saw HER for the first time. It was a Thursday; August eighteenth of two thousand eleven I believe. I remember her perfectly, for I had not, and have not, seen anybody more beautiful in my life. Her auburn hair was streaked with red and waterfalled perfectly over her delicate shoulders, that were on that day cloaked in a blue jacket. Her long graceful fingers bloomed from slender palms and were crowned with and elegant black nail polish with a cracked silver finish. To this day, I have never so much as imagined anybody more perfect than her. So what's my problem? Well Doctor, she hates me. I can see it glint in her dark eyes every time she looks at me. Why is this? Why I have not the slightest idea. All I have ever been was polite to her. All I have ever been was kind. When she shivers I give her my jacket, regardless of how cold I am at the time. When she is hungry, I use my last dime to feed her. I do everything in my power to make her happy, make her laugh when the pain adds weight to her shoulders. But I guess it just wasn't enough in the end. What do you prescribe, did you say? An entire bottle of pain pills and a slash down each wrist? That sounds about right. Thank you, my dear Doctor.
Few are quite willing to go off and fight,
The sadistic and evil, in the name of what's right.
But all of us struggle as we try to attain,
The lives that we thirst for amidst all the pain.
We live with decisions that often defy,
Our own moral codes on how to get by.
We search for so long, for what makes us strong,
for what makes us weak, and where we belong.
And just when we think that we've gone through it all,
That we've gained all the knowledge of what might befall,
Reality and Life return to their place,
Keeping us guessing and changing their pace.
Our minds and emotions like to play games,
and we search for our scapegoats in place of our blames.
With this, come frustrations that continue to grow,
Disrupting life's peace and life's even flow.
The scars from these battles are not easily shown.
Hidden as secrets; remaining unknown.
The battle within is the struggle of one.
In place of the many; in place of the gun.
i think that everyone's lives are moving on
in flashes of boyfriends and best friends and plans
and my best years are slipping through my fingers
because i hate being lonely but i'm happy alone
i have the small town disadvantage
knowing there's more but being to scared to get it
stuck here by myself watching everyone i know pick a college
and fall in love
while i'm holding on to childhood
and lusting for boys i'll never get
and sometimes everything i've done
or will ever do
like i will never be remembered
so why should i try?
because even if i write a best seller
and get famous
(because that's what i want)
nobody will remember me
because it will all end
because i'll never be pretty
so my face won't end up on magazine covers
maybe in the back
and i won't get picked up by cute boys
maybe in a dark bar
but i'd be too afraid to go in
so i'll sit and watch out the window as my life goes by
and feel nostalgic for something i never had
I kissed a boy
Because I loved him
And he loves me
I am his rose
His love and dear
He can't imagine life
My special boy
I am motivated to live
I'm getting old and I am falling to bits
think I'll give up the ghost
and just call it quits.
It's alright for you,
You're all so young
and so very vibrant
but I am reliant on doctors and pills
and every day I go on just brings me more ills.
The Priest Calls...
..and tells me,
'that life is but a distraction
and afterwards the real action begins
Repent of your sins'
I don't want to hear that no more
I show him the door.
I try to shuffle around
but I admit it at last I am almost bedbound.
The Lady Calls...
..I let her in
another repentable sin?
but she just looks and she laughs
'the only thing you'll get in that bed is bedbaths'
I don't need to show her the door
she's there before
I even know it.
getting old is the pits
are you also thinking of calling it quits?
Life is a fight
nature fights for the light
we are all blind in the night
and none more than me.
I can see I'll go on 'til the day's finally gone
but nothing tastes good any more
I wonder who let my taste buds out the door.
The Devil Knocks..
..and that shocks me awake
but I never really sleep
got to keep my eye on the green line.
the monitor doesn't allow me to sleep
but 'Old Nick makes me sick
he's even older than me
why would I want to be one of his acolytes?
they're just little shites.
I show him the door
and he roars into flames
I've never been good at poker
But me and Life played a game
I pulled a horrid, useless hand
And lost every penny to my name
The consequences were harsh
Life gave me them with a smile
With very little to work with
To overcome the trials
Life gave me keloid scars
Life gave me misophonia
Life gave me depression
Life gave me paranoia
And panic attacks
And a fear of love
(And a huge nose
As if I hadn't had enough)
And I'm meant to accept my "spoils"
From a horrid poker game
And spend years of my life
Pretending I'm okay
I'm supposed to laugh
And have a smile on my face
But what emotion should I show
When the audience walks away?
I'm supposed to do this
Without being too fake
But how can one be genuine
While wearing the facades they make?
So when others ask why I'm suicidal
When they ask why I find everything bland
When they try to fix my apathy
I just tell them "I drew a bad hand"
another step in the right direction
headed into the hole i've dug
deeper and deeper, i'll dig
until i've reached the core
extremities in check
we're bleeding out quicker
but we're gaining momentum
in another way to get life
out of the death we're breeding