Our hearts are not
all they seem to be.
They are not just
muscles pumping blood
throughout our bodies.

They are the most
intricate of beacons,
thumping out a frequency
and listening to the rhythms
of every other heart.

Some hearts share
segments of the same beat,
but ultimately, unfortunately,
are not the same as the
tune your own heart sings.

Until that day comes
(and it always comes)
when your heart
and another's
sync up.

And together they make
a symphony so beautiful
that it manifests into
a physical attraction
and an emotional bond.

So I'm here waiting,
and I'll keep on waiting,
until my heart
and another's
make the melody of love.

Silence is golden?
I think not.
For in silence we do
what we cannot amidst chaos.

We think
and remember
and realize
and regret
and repent
and rebuke
and wish
and desire
and dream
and hope
and accept
and deny
and resolve
and forget
and waddle

until
we are summoned
back to our lives
of thoughtless servitude.

Life is a journey
and Death is our destination?

Always just be yourself
but follow the examples of others?

Never give up
but also learn to let go?

The sky is the limit
but the rules must be followed?

What is the Truth
in this lie we call Society,
this delusion we have crafted,
*where the rich run the show?

You.

You are my chains.

Cruel, cold and thick;
you bind my hands and leave me helpless,
you weigh down my wings and keep me hopeless.
You think you are so strong.

You.

You are wrong.

One day, I'll overpower you,
break loose of your oppression
and leave naught in my wake
except your shattered, worthless remains.

My mind, corroded
by an internal storm,
more fierce than raging sand,
more dampening than a whirling tempest,
more numbing than the biting snow.

My eyes, like dull milky orbs,
faintly reflecting that
which they see,
yet hiding what truly
lies within.

My heart, like half-burnt coal;
its exterior light and warm,
but beneath the fragile shell
lies its true form,
an insensate lump of darkness.

This is me.
This is who I am.
I do not fight it
as this cruel, harsh world
needs people like me.

For without us,
who stare daily into the faces
of anger, loathing and despair,
how would the rest of you
know to appreciate what you have?