I love strength.
I love it more than anything.
I craved and desire strength.
Because I do not have it.
I lift ungodly amount of weight.
I train to hurt people more efficiently than a bullet.
I do these things and yet I am not strong.
I remember looking into your eyes once.
Just the once and I gleamed all I could bare.
In those eyes was not the weakness I knew.
A person who can smile honestly
A person who can hope
A person who doesn't hate others.
A person who knows what they want.
****** girl. Just be happy is all I ask.
And I know you will.
Of course I like you, you're you.
Wax lyrical about those other little *****?
With their heads full of arrogance.
With their hearts full of lies.
With their fists full of misplaced angst.
With their smirks full of "Told you So"
Who am I?
I've walked away from Omelas
They've tied the ******* albatross to my neck.
Laughter fills the air,
There They Sit with My ******* in the air.
Staring back through that looking glass.
"She hurt you and you meant nothing to her....AGAIN!"
Shouting in the mirror till I fix my tie and walk about.
Shouting out of the mirror until you fix your tie and sob.
Some sort of symmetry in the girl of my dreams.
When she starts dating my brother's drug dealer.
Some sort of empty heart that filled up my chest.
When I realized she'd rather be with him than I.
Some sort of words that get caught in my head.
When he does nothing but be himself.
Some sort of asymmetry in the weight of two people.
When their happiness means more then mine.
Even to me.
I don't want you knowing about me.
I do not want eyes on all this nothing.
I only want those accolades you hand out.
Those sweet murmurs behind useless words.
Anonymity just barely gives a ****.
Somehow I care.
I'm going to show you monsters.
Demons, Men, and Beasts.
and where I stand at the in between.
The Age of Heroes and Miracles is done.
Raise your head and bring your own light to the dark.
Watching these people.
Looking at them and only seeing composites of life.
Ideas but no action.
Life but actually none.
"Man, She looked beautiful until I saw what she mistook for it".
I'm 12 stepping this depression.
Wake up and live in the moment.
Sometimes it's one day some times one minute.
Sometimes I dance.
Other nights I can't find the strength to get out from under the bottle.
My struggles won't be visual or even physical.
I look hard at the mirror, into the eye's of my greatest enemy.