I'll let you be who you want to be
but you don't know who that is
Through blurry eyes you examine pain
but that heals nothing here
Continue in a sober trance
a ******* forms inside
No air or light can heal the lance
when wrapped up in a lie
Melancholy self fulfills
and self defeats your plans
The world conforms to inner wills
be blessings or be damns
All the unknown and the past
form everything intern
But when you focus on the worst
your soul can never learn
How long until the beauty dies
receiving no air from mournful sighs
I tell you this and know it's true
that others see the real you
It's not the person you call me
but everything that you don't see
I've watched and studied all you do
and learned a certain trait
That happiness comes through release
not when you lock the gate
So don't be scared to face the pain
admit that it's inside
It's always there, it's part of us
no matter how you've cried
Just know that you can stem the flow
and live life fairly well
Be happy now, the time has come
you've already walked through Hell
Nov 30, 2011
Nov 30, 2011 at 12:33 AM UTC
A single strand,
it weaves itself around
the empty space that circumvents my alarm clock.
The monotonous noise reminding me
of the day's responsibilities overshadowed
instantly by a thread.
A piece of you,
an accidental gift
more personal than breath.
Things unintentional are more severe
than those thought and poured over.
Delicate and strong,
this proteinacious silk
stands up to the rigors of my examination.
A tangible illustration of your life,
now,
with me,
no one can have that but me.
In reality more precious than words
or emotions that you would offer freely.
This piece of time,
that you have let slip from your grasp,
only to settle on my nightstand.
The gift of a person,
a soul,
cannot be matched by any other.
This is what we live for,
what we hang on to,
a single thread.
Nov 30, 2011
Nov 30, 2011 at 12:17 AM UTC