I find myself wondering,
when We became Me?
We were pretty neat,
I'd like to think, at least.

Maybe that was just Me,
and my wishful thinking.
I wished on a star for you,
and maybe that was silly.

Wishes are silly things,
I suppose. Just because
you wish it to be, does
not make it so.

But I know We had fun
while we lasted, and
maybe that's enough for
you. A quick fling.

Don't take that as a jab.
You're free to do as you
wish and with who you want,
but I don't have to agree.

For I wanted more.
I wanted you and
I wanted us to be We,
and yet, I am just Me.

Anger is power,
and don't let them
tell you otherwise.

Anger is action,
allowing you to
to advance onward.

Anger is change,
the force that
moves the world.

Anger is effective,
as long as you
don't let it control.

Anger is a pill,
helpful in doses,
yet easily abused.

Anger is pain,
when it lashes out
recklessly and wild

Anger is natural
and not to be feared,
when you take the wheel.

The Roamer roams on,
without thought or mind,
he is free and on his own,
but at what cost?

He roams in the day,
walking the streets,
shabbily dressed, and
confused for a vagrant.

He roams in the night
boots trampling the mud,
of a slick rain-struck sidewalk,
with no direction or guide.

He roams from city to city,
staying for just a few weeks,
then he's off again to
roam to another city.

He roams the woods,
when he gets bored
with the cities and lights,
and the noise and people.

He roams the fields,
observing the sights,
utterly alone with
his thoughts as company.

He roams the world,
roaming far and wide,
searching for something,
he just can't find.

He roams endlessly,
evermore for something
more, yet will he lose
himself in the process?

The Roamer is a nomad,
searching for a place,
for a people who he
can call his home.

You were my starlight,
like a shining sirius,
illumining my empty voids,
and filling me with light.

You gave me form,
you gave me shape,
you made me more
than just dark matter.
You made me matter.

You were so bright,
beaming with light,
like Castor to Pollux,
I could see you shine
from the depths of space

All those years we had,
all those laughs we made,
all those suns we watched
cool and slowly fade away.

I never thought that
it could happen to you,
never thought you
would leave me,
like a supernova.
One day here,
and the next, gone.

So I am left alone,
left in my darkness,
like a supermassive
black hole.

Sometimes, it
feels like we
are worlds
apart.

Like from Mercury
to Neptune, we
just can't seem
to agree on anything

Like we just are
on different axes,
on different planets,
in different galaxies.

It's frustrating me
to no end, to know
we can't connect.

You always have
something smart to say,
and then I jab back,
and here we are,
fighting again.

What keeps us apart
like ships sailing
in opposite directions?
I know we can find
it in us to make things work.

If you feed the fire with coal,
I'll man this captain's wheel,
and my resolve I will steel.
We will conquer this stormy sea.

Choices are important.

The things we do,
the words we speak,
the thoughts we think,
they each define us.

But one bit to consider,
as our choices shape us,
at what point are we
the ones in control?

We like to think we
are free to do whatever
our hearts desire, that
we could scream to the
heavens above, just
because it was our life
and we could live it
however we pleased.

But is that really true?

Or is our idea of freedom
just another form of control?
Rarely do people genuinely
do things outside their
normal, every-day routine.

They get up, they eat,
they wash, they go to work,
they work, they go home,
they sleep, so the circle spins.

Even when they get time
to be on their own, what
do they do? They eat,
they drink, they dance,
they watch their tv,
they follow their routine.

The choices they made,
those things that seemed
so slight back in their early years
proved to be fundamental in
deciding who and what they'd be
at this current spot in time.

We all make choices,
but in the end, our choices make us.

Ever since I can remember,
these slugs been hounding me,
these wheelers, these dealers,
like drug dealers, they peddling
they lies to try and hypnotise
young minds like mines but you
gotta remember what they tell
you's real and what's really real
is two totally different reals.

Those maggots they try and sell you
on some pie in the sky, just another lie
another fantasy, another trap to
keep you and yours down in the gutters.

They tell you you ain't pretty enough or,
that you ain't smart enough, or you
ain't good enough as you are, and that
what you need is what they happen to have.
A bottle of pills to cure all your ills,
or is it just something to siphon your will?

You gotta believe me, man, or lady,
you can't trust those suits who try to buy
your happiness, your love, your self-esteem
like it was some kinda product to buy and sell,
like your worth is some kinda commodity, hell no.
Feel me when I say you're beautiful the way you are.

But those words won't mean a thing until you try
some introspection and realize it for yourself.
Can't nobody, not me, or the suits, tell you
how you're meant to feel, or meant to think.
The only happiness you'll ever find is from within,
and the only love you'll ever find is deep inside.