Sometimes, I blame the stars
I ponder the possibility of their alignment being so twisted on the day I was born
Searching for an explanation

Sometimes, I blame my parents
Perhaps the concept of never being good enough, of which they poisoned my brain with, was not just a concept but in fact the truth all along

Sometimes, I blame my teachers
I consider the reinforcement of said concept being pushed down my throat during my years in education
Never good enough to succeed
Never good enough to be loved

Sometimes, I blame God
No, I’m not religious, but the desperation to know the unknown consumes my entire being until I am pushed towards yet another unknown

Sometimes, I blame society
For worshipping such unattainable standards of beauty that one forgets the true meaning of the word
What does it mean to be beautiful?
What does it mean to be loved?

I never blame myself.
Because I know that is where the answer lies and it terrifies me.

I know the toothless women
Who crumple on the streets
The rain bleeds through their cardboard,
The cold drips through their feet

I know the dying children
With anaesthetic arms
The angels crowd around them
With time that burns their palms

I've hugged the brainwashed gangsters
With money drenched in blood
I've heard their broken weeping
While digging up the mud

I've seen the starving faces
Of the tired girls at home
The broken, hectic psyches
That eat them to the bone

I know the burning poets
With a desperate thirst for life
The need for finding soulmates
That pierces like a knife

There's weary public servants
Who risk their lives for good
And prove compassion every day
Yet stay misunderstood

Human love is buried
Beneath the plastic weight
Of angry allegations
And a world that feeds off hate

These people may be messy,
But they're beautiful and real
With hidden dreams and secrets
And ability to feel

We have a place to run to
With lights of peach and gold
Where all the weight is lifted
And all our tales are told

We live in total freedom
So safe beneath the moon
And though it seems ambitious
Our dreams will save us soon

We, at various points in life,
draw a line
in the sand.
Marking where we've been,
where we stopped
to never venture forward.
Winds bring change no lines
can withstand. And we draw
them again in defiance.
We eke meaning from this sand
that would otherwise
mean nothing to us. Imparting
our own ideologies
onto an unresponsive medium
as a testament
to ourselves. Our independence.
The sand is most susceptible to change,
shifted constantly
by the sea, our feet,
the wind.
Still, we draw our lines anyway.

You were, you are
You’ll always be
The most wonderful thing
There is to me

I remember the evening
that we sat clinging
to paper cups
of coffee gone cold

over secrets spilled and memories told
two bodies cursed
with hearts grown old

behind your eyes
I found new worlds
A winding road stretched out for miles
to a small cafe at the end of the isle

Sweet pastries filled the mouths
of those who sat beside us
and stayed for a while.

How the hours went by,
people just passing through
The descending sun ending
a forever with you.