*I wish I didn't have these arms you scratched
This broken heart you deeply touched?
Imagine the idea of making no **** oath
If I wasn't given such a sincere mouth
What if I had no arms to hold you tight
Or I were an imbecile whose mind thought nothing right
What if I was a strengthless ******* who couldn't fight
Imagine I had no eyes to see you the day we met
If I hadn't taken that road that sealed our fate
If I was soul-less, if that makes some sense
And lived free of guilt without conscience
To walk out on every lady like you did to me
Imagine it was sold ,the much I'd pay to be so mean
What if I wasn't human to trip and madly fall
Or I had no mobile to helplessly answer your call
Imagine I was deaf to apologies or created without ears
Could I have shed these oceans of tears all these years?
Imagine I had no nostrils to master your fragrance
Or palms to get adicted to the softness of your ambiance
If I had a stiff neck which could never turn
Imagine, me without looking back the far I would run
Imagine love was already made and we hadn't made it
Imagine I could decide who charmed me, not fate's merit
Imagine I erasing all the sweet moments and enjoying the sour
Wouldn't my pride still be as high as the Babel tower?
Just take your time, take away my eyes, feet, heart, soul and mind
And see what I'd be, a dark lonesome beast of its kind
So as you're walking away and sending me into a trance
Imagine walking back and this time having no other chance*
Jun 10, 2015
Jun 10, 2015 at 8:13 PM UTC
To write, or not to write.
That is my question.
My question to myself.
Do I write and keep hurting myself with memories?
Or do I sit tight and hope for the best…
Do I write and risk making things worse?
Or do I stop fearing being further misunderstood…
Do I write about the things I’m at fault for?
Or do I write about the things I’m not…
Do I write about why I did the things I did?
Or do I write about why they did the things they did…
Do I write in an attempt to make amends?
Or do I write to finally end it all…
But then again…
Why would I write?
What would be the point?
Would it be to try ending things amicably?
Or to somehow try to stay friends…
Would it be to try explaining my point of view?
Or to somehow try understanding theirs…
Would it be to point out the things I was trying to avoid?
Or to point out how they've ignorantly walked us all into them…
Would it be to understand why they blame me for certain things?
Or to explain why I blame them for certain things…
Would it be to point out how and why I broke for so long?
Or would they just simply not even care…
Would it be to remind them how they too have been stuck in a rut before?
Or would they just be callous and say that it’s different…
Would it be to try understanding if I was used?
Or would I just end up realizing for how long…
Would it be to find answers for all of the unanswered questions?
Or would I just be left with even more questions than answers…
Would it be to convince myself they’re a decent person?
Or would it be to realize they’re a heartless animal…
Would it be to understand what traps I’ve pushed them into?
Or to write about the ones they’ve pushed both me and themselves into…
Would it be to explain the soul crushing dreams that have been vividly etched into my memory?
Or to explain the countless sleepless nights for months, drenched in cold sweat, shifting from bed to couch to floor in my own home...
Would it even be worth it at this point?
Or should I just realize there is no way to ever trust them again regardless of all of the above…
Would it be to try and write a concrete poem?
Or to forget the rhythm halfway through and just get my thoughts out…
To right, or not to right...
I guess I’ll just write about maybe writing…
Apr 28, 2015
Apr 28, 2015 at 10:50 PM UTC
Let this be a wake up call for those who still have it,
For so many people take it for granted.
It's there for you every day.
It's there for you even when it's not.
It's a part of almost everything you eat and drink.
It's a part of almost everything you do and make.
It's in your pizza.
It's in your soda.
It's in your charity.
It's in your tears.
It's in your wars.
It's in your blood.
It feeds you.
It fuels you.
It heals you.
It cleans you.
It helps you get through the day.
Day after day.
Week after week.
Month after month.
Year after year.
Some people love it.
Some people like it.
Some people don't notice it.
But all people need it.
And yet many people squander it.
They pollute it.
They abuse it.
They waste it.
They destroy it.
They consume it without even realizing it.
They demand it be there for them all of the time.
They do all of this without ever thinking that one day,
They could reach for it and only find air.
Until that day has come.
Until their bread and water is gone.
And you're left scrambling,
Scared and desperate,
Wondering how long you can manage to survive,
Without your bread and water...
Feb 3, 2015
Feb 3, 2015 at 10:33 PM UTC