danielleis-me - Hello Poetry

Circles are predictable, they have no edges, no sharp, quick turns, but are continuous the same path,and the same outcome. But circles are dangerous, they can trap us They keep us in a continuous cycle of lies, and habits that hurt us. Isn’t that what happened to you? You got stuck in your own little cycle, and hurt all of us, not just you. Watching you go through this cycle, like car driving on a race track. Going so fast to end up, in the same place. What happens when you run out gas? you’ll just stop, stop driving, because this circle kept you going till you ran out, left you empty done, depleted, dead.

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Nov 3, 2014

Nov 3, 2014 at 2:49 AM UTC

Race Track.

Circles are predictable, they have no edges, no sharp, quick turns, but are continuous the same path,and the same outcome. But circles are dangerous, they can trap us They keep us in a continuous cycle of lies, and habits that hurt us. Isn’t that what happened to you? You got stuck in your own little cycle, and hurt all of us, not just you. Watching you go through this cycle, like car driving on a race track. Going so fast to end up, in the same place. What happens when you run out gas? you’ll just stop, stop driving, because this circle kept you going till you ran out, left you empty done, depleted, dead.

13

I have lived many lives, and have seen exotic places. New people join me on my adventures, but they all leave and are replaced. I haven’t been there in awhile, mostly because it’s gone. Atleast i thought it was, but hope has been struck like lightning. A minute there, then gone,warned me that something is coming. An oncoming storm, coming fast, and unyielding. I will get there soon, stay where you are, don’t move.

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Sep 28, 2014

Sep 28, 2014 at 1:31 AM UTC

Hopeful.

I have lived many lives, and have seen exotic places. New people join me on my adventures, but they all leave and are replaced. I haven’t been there in awhile, mostly because it’s gone. Atleast i thought it was, but hope has been struck like lightning. A minute there, then gone,warned me that something is coming. An oncoming storm, coming fast, and unyielding. I will get there soon, stay where you are, don’t move.

8

Nostalgia fills my bones,when i past by old park benches. I can feel your breath, on my neck when the air blows Nights feel empty, and the days look dark, When i walk into a coffee shop, I can feel the ghost of you hand entwined with mine. At nights i try and picture what it would be like with you next to me, but you are a memory, a ghost, you never existed. I am trying to forget, that you were never here, but that’s like trying to forget how to breathe. The sun has burnt up, everything is cold, i have frozen to death.

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Sep 27, 2014

Sep 27, 2014 at 9:30 PM UTC

Departed.

Nostalgia fills my bones,when i past by old park benches. I can feel your breath, on my neck when the air blows Nights feel empty, and the days look dark, When i walk into a coffee shop, I can feel the ghost of you hand entwined with mine. At nights i try and picture what it would be like with you next to me, but you are a memory, a ghost, you never existed. I am trying to forget, that you were never here, but that’s like trying to forget how to breathe. The sun has burnt up, everything is cold, i have frozen to death.

9

You left, not only me but everything. You’re a different person, drowning in dark brown liquids, your judgment clouded by noxious smoke. You used to be a hero, now what are you? A constant nagging in the back of my mind. Your memory attacks me, living in the residence, in which you stayed; but it’s not the memory that leaves me for dead, it's the fact that, even in the reality that I dwell in you come, uninvited; demanding me to come to your rescue, when it’s me, who needs you the most

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Sep 27, 2014

Sep 27, 2014 at 2:35 AM UTC

Never rescued or saved.

You left, not only me but everything. You’re a different person, drowning in dark brown liquids, your judgment clouded by noxious smoke. You used to be a hero, now what are you? A constant nagging in the back of my mind. Your memory attacks me, living in the residence, in which you stayed; but it’s not the memory that leaves me for dead, it's the fact that, even in the reality that I dwell in you come, uninvited; demanding me to come to your rescue, when it’s me, who needs you the most

9

I like him a lot, but does not see me. he only sees the person whose shadow, I am engrossed in. I don't mind he can not see. I am like the pigeons in Central Park common and ordinary. But I may not know who, someone is there. He is there, He can see me, He is the one who watches me fly, the one who is kind enough to leave bread crumbs. Who is patient enough to wait and watch. I may lust after him, but I was the one who was blind to Him.

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Sep 27, 2014

Sep 27, 2014 at 2:28 AM UTC

Pigeons.

I like him a lot, but does not see me. he only sees the person whose shadow, I am engrossed in. I don't mind he can not see. I am like the pigeons in Central Park common and ordinary. But I may not know who, someone is there. He is there, He can see me, He is the one who watches me fly, the one who is kind enough to leave bread crumbs. Who is patient enough to wait and watch. I may lust after him, but I was the one who was blind to Him.

10