I used to wear my heart upon my sleeve
But then it frayed,
And now I'm left with a pile of string

The last time the caged bird sang,
So light, so shrill,
The memories rang,
To forget would ****.

Her life was encaged,
Tightly bound,
She promised herself to never rage,
Her homes were compressed and never found.

Deterioration took place,
On the brink of hysteria,
Fragile as aged lace,
Life became a controlled area.

With her lovely wings,
She used to soar,
She only remembered the hard things
Ambitions leaked through the cracks on the floor.

Lies came into mind,
Revealing and bitter,
It was one of a kind,
How this hit her.

All she asks for is closure,
Of her torn heart,
The ways they still hold her,
It tears her further apart.

Living in this is driving her to conclusions,
She thought she would never meet.
Lying to herself, "It's just an illusion",
This is her defeat.

She had the confidence to break through it all,
The hope begins to lose their vibrant colors
Rock bottom broke her fast paced fall,
She lies there and devotes herself to wonders

So as the caged bird sang for the last time,
So light, so shrill,
The memories are ringing,
To remember kills.

I just wanted to write a poem
And have it disappear into infinity
Not looking for validity
That it was only loved by me.

Just when you really love someone
You hold the words close
Like a firefly in you hands
Because if you open them to show someone
It could fly away into the clouds.

But now my room is overflowing
With things longing to escape
But I lock the door
Because I know once they leave
I’ll forget what they looked like.

A pretty girl smiled at me yesterday
and I thought of nothing cool to say.

So loneliness is the price I'll pay
because I just let her slip away.

Rolling
stone
           tum-ba-ling,
           trem-ba-ling
down
to
the
stream
wide
           leaving
           green
           aside
Determination
boy!

Turn off the light,
Force my eyes to adjust  
So for a brief point in time
I don’t have to deal with the world.

The roués of an instance
Pressing and compressing
Ideas once held so dearly,
So close to the chest,
Fundamental morals that are nurtured and grown to define who I am, to determine what defines me,
to know what best explains who, what, when, where and why I become ‘I’;


...Has warped.

We are all required
To develop an acquired
Taste of territoriality
Over who we are, and what we have
Or,
Who we have and why we are.

“She is mine. From the second I laid eyes on her I knew.”- The Landlord

That determinism,
That ‘I am who I am, and the only thing that changes is time’
Is flawed.
Time does not change!
Who we are changes!

Change only comes from within.
The unfathomable amount of people I can and will be,
Stems from me and myself alone.
However poignant this is,
The matter arises that,
No question how much responsibility I have for why I am, who I am, and who I need to be;
These people will never meet.

We are told to dream,
That we can be whoever we want to be,
Though we never want to be who we are.
The closer we get to the carrot,
The more we realise
It is dangling from the pole taped to our heads.

Never live for the dream
Just be existent in the present,
For the vision does not exist.
And never will.
It just changes.



*And I am sick of dreaming… But I lack sleep.

…Oh god, what have I done?