Every word on my mind has the power to save my life, but like a sharpened knife I keep them at my side, because this was supposed to be just another fist fight, and I fight fair even when I'm outsized.

I could have sworn
that my heart stopped
and my skies fell down,
the grounds swallowed the
trees and mountains in,

the stars disappeared to
thin air,
and the sun decided to
give up on life, too,

when you left
me.

Somehow I keep
Letting you slip
Through my fingers
And under my nose.
Then when you're gone
I don't feel a thing
But your memory lingers,
Like the smoke in the air
That I breathe in my sleep,
I Inhale as much of you
As my lungs can keep,
Until I am thoroughly
And completely choked.
The house is on fire,
But I'll never leave this roast.
I'm just dreaming of you,
As I sleep alone
Inside my burning home

life is such a strange and interesting concept.
you do and say an abundant amount of things in a day,
you meet so many similar yet dissimilar people,
and boom.
they're all gone.
and you're merely left with a memory.

how distressing it can be when you are out there,
smiling, laughing, enjoying every splendor detail of this world
when you realize,
that it doesn't even feel real.
it doesn't feel right.

and you begin to feel like you don't deserve this.
that your body doesn't deserve to feel the radiating sunshine,
that your mind doesn't deserve to feel understood,
that you don't deserve to feel truly blessed.

when you do.

i feel like us humans have this comfort zone,
we spend 99 percent of the time chained
to mental illness and anguished feelings
that once we feel euphoric moments
falling into the palm of our hands,
it doesn't feel real.
it doesn't feel right.

us humans need to learn that
the days are rapidly passing us by,
and the minutes aren't stopping for any of us.
we need to value the moments that are brought to us
and not interrogate them or our existence
because overall,
life is such a strange and interesting concept.  
you do and say an abundant amount of things in a day,
you meet so many similar yet dissimilar people,
and boom.
they're all gone.
and you're merely left with a memory.

All around me I see faces wearing expressions that say they're starving for love, but in a last ditch effort to protect what they have managed to save up, every single one of them has sewn their own lips shut, and they've lived their lives neither finding someone they could trust nor anyone who would ever give enough, because they're not willing to risk giving what little they were born with up.

I lost the rhythm, dropped the beat, choked the chords.

I think I'm slipping through,

cemented feet, on the corner, of responsibility street,

and romance avenue.

A famine of feats, a loss of belief, what else have you?

never a clue,
what not to do.