stars are born when old wishes die
ignited in the sky
by unbelieving eyes
up above the world so high
down below we weep and cry
faith turned hollow and bone-dry
closed up lips only deny
a prayer a plea before i die
wont these old wishes
wish me goodbye

Lord, here I am
Unfit to tie your shoes
Still on my behalf you move
When I'm not sure of what to do

You comfort me
You comfort me

Lord, here I am
The blind man at the gate
Not able to see the way
You hold my hand and gently say

You'll comfort me
You'll comfort me

Lord, here I am again
The woman at the well
My sins explain themselves
They are mine and no one else

Comfort me
Comfort me

Lord, here I am
The man beside the pool
Needing healing too
Help me find healing in you

As you comfort me
Comfort me

Lord, here I am
The thief that's on the cross
With the right words I am at loss
As my sins you pay the cost

Which comforts me
Yes, you comfort me

I am misunderstood.
Because I am black & white,
Never showing one solid color.

Others believe that I have no ability to fly,
They criticize my abilities based off their undead opinions.
But I am a bird,
I can fly if I really want to.

I come off to them as something white,
Something nice,
Something loving,
Happy,
Shy,
And optimistic about things that no one cares about.

But I can be something black.
A reckless, risk taking bird,
That lives in cold, dark places,
And relies on my independence to survive the harsh world.

As much as you get to know me,
You will never actually meet me in my true color.
I am hidden beneath my fake appearance,
And the wayward shadows I carry on my heavy shoulders.

You can say whatever you want about me,
And use my colors and inability to fly as an excuse to hurt me.
But I believe that my useless wings and my conflicting colors are only useful to me,
I can use them to fly to places you will never see.

I could be misunderstood,
But I am the best flying, black & white penguin I could ever be.

-FJ

Sometimes I wonder,
Should I wander?
Should I leave this world,
Should I become a ghost of my being?

Then I remember,
I already am a ghost.
My memories and feelings are existing too much
too little.  
I'm living,
not living.

~♡~

The best way to bring about change...
Don't walk. KNEEL!

SoulSurvivor
(C) 11/14/2016

If i told you i needed help
would you listen?
Or would your silence
Echo off the walls.
See my life is like a car,
Sometimes moving fast
And other times so **** slow.
If i told you i feel hurt inside
would you not just hear
but listen
to what i said
I need someone to care.
Im tired of trying to fight alone.
Im tired of trying to survive at a table for one.
If i told you
I cry all over my body
And each tear is a knife
And they are leaving scars on my flesh,
Would you cut me a bandage,
Sop up my blood,
Or leave me to bleed out.
If i told you
I was alone and my demons are taunting me
would you get me out
Or would you keep walking
or keep scrolling...
Im not begging for attention,
But one cannot be expected to be alone and silent like a life long detention.
If i told you
I was ready to confess everything
Come clean from my secrets,
Strip myself naked so you could see my imperfections
would you care even the slightest bit
Or are you so selfish
And so ignorant
To walk on
And leave this person to die.
If i told you i was ready to die
would you blame it in cliche,
Or believe it and save me from damnation
Its time to think.
It could be up to you
This isnt just my world,
Its yours, too
and dont you want to be
somebody
To someone?
I need you.
Because all of these "if i told you's
Are becoming
**im telling you

In response to @SoulSurvivor's "Books vs Men" poem...

I think women
should be more like books
Both you cannot judge....by looks

If  I didn't want to read on a certain day
I'd ignore it, and drink my worries away
...no feelings of our bond going astray

A book will never fuss or fight
It will stay with you through the night
It will always open up to you...
or should I say open for you?

It's not obsessed with chocolate.
It won’t keep up the masquerade...
nor will it eat from your plate.

It doesn't seek approval...it doesn't weep.
It won’t complain about a toilet seat.

It doesn't expect me to remember, but it's intact..
if I always remember to watch sport

It doesn't always want to have the last say
It won’t sob when it gets too much...
and I decide to walk away


But it's not as beautiful.
It isn't warm-hearted.
In the kitchen it isn't skillful.
Its curves are not as creatively crafted.

Even though it does not fuss,
It can’t listen. It can’t discuss

Even thou it can look good,
it won’t blush when I give a compliment.
It won’t feel it when the weather is cold,
so I can make it smile by offering my jacket.


When I'm not there it won’t miss me.
When I see it again it can’t jump n kiss me.


So now that I think of it again...
...Book are just books, let them be.

Women are that part of us,
that was somehow removed from us
and we constantly have the desire,
to have them attached back to us.