I wonder if in years & years after my demise someone would read my written piece & look up to the skies & wonder how my life had been or where I am today & keep my soul a memory a million miles away.........
Perfectionism is solely imperfect We can't change what is meant to be This dimension's truly a synchronized mess & we're confused to the worst degree. Neither appearance nor soul will adhere to the role, or that ideally flawless pitch you've got ready in your head- the stereotypical switch that you subconciously await the time you achieve perfection -won't be met until you're dead.
Midnight timelapse of the day; a chaotic flasback - pandemonium I'd grow Griffin wings & fly away Off of lifes manic grip - a restless podium Where the spotlight burns my eyelids sore Profoundly fatigued, deep to the core These complications that I can't ignore I want to hit snooze & snore some more.
A day in the life of a student......victims to the exhausting education system
2000's baby just turned 17 but I'm either 5 or 55 & there's no in between. One starry collision - gone Supernova, created a cosmic being never-ending nova. 365 X 17 days on Earth 3 yrs till, 2 decades in being. Time flew unforeseen - from the moment of birth Forever a childish soul... though each minute is eternally fleeing.
A mural of faint galaxies behind my eyelids vaguely sparkle like the static of tv - it isn't darkness nor is it imagery... It's nothing but, what is nothing? Like bedsheets pulled over the pupil & iris staring at a ceiling of subtly glitching galaxies
I used to read your poems but lately you don't write you're silent and aloof you know that isn't right. You can't close a door once opened you can't abolish all your dreams you're a poet of the heart mustn't fall apart at the seams. Say what you can in words they speak the message true spoken from the heart the poems will see you through. A hermit's not your style a recluse, you are not never give up writing of things that you've been taught. I used to read your poems I'd read them once again if you would send them out (this one's from a poet friend)
I keep trying to refuse these feelings But everytime I beg them to go away They find new places to invade The more I turn from them The more they grow The more I pull at them The deeper they go Like the roots of an ancient tree They tangle deep inside my heart So deep that I can't pull them out