I am weightless in the breathlessness of my own soul;
where I wake up every part of myself – piece by piece.
Life is the length you live, until you die – measuring
it risk by risk.

My soul is amiss, where I aim my mark on giving
out good remarks. But I must admit, sometimes it’s
all just a miss.

Yes, I am this candle of love, burning fiercely in my heart.
But where I burn from its wick; my heart is fiercely wicked.
And I play out the cast of my feelings – but, why do I have
to act them out as an armed hand; protecting my very own
insecurities, held in a daily ***** cast?

And in all the beautiful things I can see, I quickly fish
for ideas. Afterwards, I cast my net to grab onto dreams –
still I need the fires of His love, for my soul can easily fall
asleep. For our beds are our testing graves, and after your
final resting place, where will you end up in the End of days?

I add music to my thoughts, just to keep them from growing
darker – my cheeks, feel like lead – weighed down by the burden
of unshed tears; as my ears strain to bear the weight of my silent
anguish. At times, my screams clash like thunder, echoing through
the tempest of my doubts, a relentless storm that looms overhead.
Each flicker of hope I grasp is met by lurking shadows, eager to
shroud my path in darkness—insecurities descend like a nightfall,
one among countless others.

The darkness acts as a hairline, as it recedes beneath a vengeful star,
I cling to the flicker of positivity that still resides within me, yet rage
simmers when my existence goes unnoticed. The Heavens bleed
crimson as I search for solace in my dreams, and where the blood
spills, it crashes against the earth with a deafening roar. My thoughts
drift through a luminous haze, yet I remain a harbinger of chaos,
spiralling through destruction—yearning, a restless spirit, my body
evaporating, and ceasing to exist.

In this turmoil, I am drawn into a surreal realm, where the confines
of my mind transform into a grand stage—twisting and contorting,
twisting itself in these performing gymnastic routines. It is a perpetual
struggle, a delicate dance of cognition, as I pray, I do not tear the
fragile threads of my sanity.

Yet, amidst this chaos, my music rises as a refuge, the pen transforming into my conductor's wand, weaving together the symphony of poetic notes that dance upon the page – I am a poet.

Why is love so real,
only when it really hurts.
Especially now,
when she's your real first?

Heirlooms, heirlooms drawing me
back into memories
I stored my heart in them, tucked away
in that bedside drawer
And like the rest; I've fallen asleep on
their comforting dreams
Growing up, as they've grown up to have more
value through these hidden years- a beautiful investment

So, know that I'll never forget that first love we
once shared, trapped in my consciousness
I've come to learn, I've learned to share the lessons,
and the lessons have been taught out of love
Safely stored in the drawers of consciousness,
a well made beautiful investment, I'll always recall
for tomorrows heirlooms

a heart dares itself to be in charge – heavy as lead
a mind so lost in depths of the mundane, man’s greatest
and heaviest sigh is knowing tomorrow is, “Monday”

the perennial and annihilating thirst of this flesh;
funny how the power of creation is another man’s
addiction – one who multiplies life, the other just makes
an addition to their means of only finding, “friction”

some days I pray for angels to bear the weight on
my shoulders, the demons sit on top of my head –
all-knowing silence; the darkness smiles at your
shame, but who really knows what to look for in
the dark?

         …I only pray you see yourself in a better light

Time: with its relentless grasp tightening around me, like the
unyielding force of gravity — anchors me in place. I aspire to
embrace aging with grace. I sense the encroachment of greys;
those emerging silver strands blend into the horizon of new days.

Isn’t life so strange; contradiction: we know of it like a friend, even
while it can turn adversarial until the end. Shifting seamlessly
between ally and adversary, these moments of joy and sorrow;
exalting in its beauty even as it envelops us in its enigmatic embrace?

So profound in depth and meaning, a symphony of paradoxes
harmonizing into the melody of our journey. I only aspire to embrace
aging with grace, oh what a shame — we move forward, embracing
the uncertainty with grace, as time continues its ceaseless march.
A steadfast friend from the break of day, an adversary until the sun
sets.

he had voices in his head
all pushing him to the edge
they come to you live,
but are all wishing him dead

the silence is loud

Whisper the depths of the night— as angelic wrath burns away
at my soul, consuming me in a tempest of alienation, a spectre
unseen; - out of sight; I've lost my mind to my sanity that slips
through my fingers. Where, I ponder, if the appearance of a
grotesque smile will find its place in this so to claim, “beautiful
world?” I remain oblivious to the value of my treasures; until
the very essence of what I cherished fades into oblivion.

Direct my heart toward the doorway; what purpose lies in this
revelation — exposed to the harsh truth of humanity's rawness,
akin to the crude oil extracted to nourish our existence, fuelling
this artificial journey we call life.

The intellect of this age is only but artificial; what is cherished in
these times is only but superficial, fracturing the essence of love
we ought to share. For what is called to be love divided among
us, swiftly reveals the stark truth that all are not treated equal.
Casting shadows on the bonds that should unite us.

We are divided by this so-called love.

Heavy is the weapon that carries it’s victim’s blood –
Heavy is a ***** mind that eventually fills with mud;
Heavy are your eyes in a dream, like a sleeping prong,
Piercing your thoughts in the daylight; life lives short –
While the dreams we make of ourselves live long.

Heavy is the head that wears the crown,
Heavy is the crowd, hoping to see you down;
Heavy is the weight of love, to make your kids proud.

For by the blood of ourselves, the words of our tongue
Are the greatest weapons, to lift or bring others down,
Even as your dirtiest thoughts subtly attract so easily,
It comes from all being fully stained in our sin’s filth –
While your dreams are the length of your passions;
The measure you take to achieve them, lies in width.

Bearing the crown of responsibility; those below you,
Look you down, seeing your success without longevity.
Avoid the negativity, live in positivity, a life of wisdom,
Joy, & love – a legacy your young would be proud to be.

Who is that boy, with those piercing headline eyes – I tell you, he only
looks like bad news. His kiss is like a deep bass, a note shaking your
heart with the lies that plays from his lips. Yet, doesn’t he make you
feel older than you wish to be, as you love to think on nostalgia—
                         all those good moments you long to harness,
would you dare to be honest?

           Still, you defiantly love him more than me, or so it seems….

Antisocial much,
Because I'm too afraid to spill out my heart.
Cautiously I chose all of my words,
Doesn't mean they won't work on your nerves.
Effortlessly I try to be the humble type,
For the sake of being someone you'd like.

God created me as this person of late,
Holding onto his will and onto my fate.
I know at times I can't get a grip of things,
Joyously I hold the tiny pieces of all my dreams.

Kassan! You should be brave as much as you can,
Let the world speak for it's own, you're still a man!

Many will see you as different,
Neither could label you inefficient.
Open your eyes dear child,
Piece together yourself from inside.
Quietly listen to the guiding voice in your mind.
Realize your worth,
Seek to be worth more every single day, right from your birth.

Time always seems limited,
Understand not to steal time and become a criminal.

View yourself in the better light of a furious fire,
Walk a walk that will inspire.
X out your fears,
Zero in firstly on what's meant to be real.

You witnessed the envy in your own eyes
as you gazed upon those priceless evergreens,
their lush greenery a sight to behold.
You couldn't help but yearn for their beauty,
a jealous lip bite betraying your desire to have
such splendor tucked and packed
like treasures in a boxer short.

As your legs tremble with resolve,
drenched in the intensity of the moment,
You bravely shoulder the weight of all
those taunts and challenges hurled like sharp
horns towards your chest.
Just like a bullhorn painfully piercing through
excited flesh, the sensation resonates within you,
stirring a tumult of conflicting emotions.

Your eyes, wide and searching, dart towards
the fleeting images playing out in your mind,
where the memory of being placed ever so delicately
on the bed surfaces.

Initially, his touch held a sense of
innocence reminiscent of cradling an infant,
but that purity is swiftly overtaken by a primal,
almost sinister desire that extinguishes it in a single,
searing breath.

His primal groans start chasing at your ears,
resonating with a deep and primal intensity that
seems to echo through the confines of your room,
reverberating against the walls and
enveloping you in a raw, untamed energy.

The tight moans of his fleshly presence fill the air,
creating a palpable tension that seems to draw
you closer to him, as if his very essence is intertwined
with yours in that moment.

His inviting eyes, like hot fires, burn with a
fierce intensity that seems to sear into your very soul,
their gaze captivating every inch of
your skin with a magnetic pull.

So beautiful were his eyes, reflecting a love that
enveloped you in a warm embrace, his affectionate
gaze mirroring the depth of his feelings for you.

Oh, how long you had waited for this moment,
your heart swelling with a mix of anticipation and
desire as you finally found yourself in his loving embrace.

I seen a picture of you from the sides,
and got lost in your sideview
I put my thoughts to rest, each time
we're running into that room
And I flip you over to another chapter
of your body's next page
So lets have a bit of these sides from the
ashes of past days; put it all in that ashtray....

My soul feels too short for love –
but there’s a tall glass of it, I’m hoping
fills the thirst of my heart’s empty cup
But if there’s a map to someone’s thoughts
…here I am, navigating!

While the hills of their eyes are always
these dreams like mountaintops
Though rising to your peak is so scary –
where the bottom always looks you up,
And I know we’re all still searching for those
pieces of ourselves.

Even when sometimes there’s a mix of
doubt in my cup – it’s so hard to doubt the
fact that you sometimes really love to doubt
yourself… most days I have to empty myself,
to refill up on worth in this cup.

I am not impressed
I'm just depressed, I am but a mess
wondering what it is next, all the guns
out in the world—equals death

Divide and conquer
we are here to only **** ourselves
daily—a selfish death

Swimming in your depths
and thought ties around your neck
life chokes everyday—a slow death

Should be happy that I made it
but not made of success
A lot time left to just to second
guess—a career's death

Spitting on all my dreams
mouthful of ill talk sickening in my chest
never at my best—imagination's death

Harsh words are blazing fires
it stinks; ash on your breath
still alive at 23 screaming yes
despite missteps—walks of death

Death, death, death, all I've known is death

Dear IS,

Is it fair you hold the key to my drive— to make something, yet
make it too frightening to try? Your breath pretends to drift slow
in my ear, but beneath it, you’re clearing the field, planting seeds
of every fear you know will take root.

Is it the power lines I see wired from me to you— feeding your
hands as you siphon my strength, splitting my will from the things
I keep tucked deep in the vault of myself? As you arrange them like
weapons, calling each by name to remind me of the parts I’ve tried
to love but sometimes can’t.

Is it the way I urge, wish, and will to act— only for you to spool film
from my past, running old scenes like warnings until my courage
caves to your script? Your message is seen: as nothing moves unless
you approve.

Is that you, who rests on my chest like a stone, chastising, shrinking
me to the size of my doubts— small flaws made giant, slippery
floors of thought that tilt more than they ever should? Well… not
anymore. You don’t get to rule me, or write my rules.

Goodbye, Insecurity—as if I could ever feel secure in you.

Yours,
faithfully unfaithful,

Ex-companion.

Shadows silhouette
static t.v. screens electrifying
performance just before the curtain falls
An audience roars applauds to none of which
is truly heard, taking bow to resounding success

All at a level best, the author neither hears the end
of their own story—but quietly predicts it
Believes in it so much, it soon becomes disbelief
or as the fear of a fitting end has eliminated grief

Ssshh,
shuttle away to the quietest of dreams
transported to a land of only imagination
Passion, passions of all but passionate
Weaving through traffic of a rush hour mind
with no stop signs or any bright red light

Denying all of your pride
so choked up in a dream, coughing out aspiration,
ambition, or ideals
And only in a land void of fears, do we soon
find the bravery to grow our wings

But do you not realize how  
Littered
You are, with so much  
Time–              

               Still,  
You choose to waste it

Yet time will always lick
Our wounds
Given the time, for us to heal

               We are
           Time's litter.

The God of my all; in the little that I have,
The words of Salvation; in the promises you've made,
The light of my path; on the days that I walk,
The song of protection; in life’s destructive chorus,
The echo of light; for the brightest of days.

On shaky ground; His foundations are my steady,
In empty days; He’s the fullest to my mornings,
To what do I owe to be given such love?

Nothing! Of what good works can give,
But rather the praise and adoration I have for him.
Nothing! Of what seems impossible,
Will be too impossible for Him.
Nothing! Of what the enemy plans,
Can stand against in the wayside of Him.
Nothing! Of my constant worries,
Will stop the love of the Lord our King.

Nothing! Is impossible,
for nothing is as great as Him.

Today was a beautiful day than yesterday
Everyday all just days of a living testimony
And all our troubles will pass me by because tomorrow is another day
Why look at all the things that may bring us down
When there is so much that is all a hope in us giving us a smile from that awful frown

I care for not of all the bad things that make my days to be
Only memories in my mind all passing by
Not holding me back because in my heart I am free
So let me live this life as my God made it to be
All my troubles will be just  passing by
A living testimony for all to see

Could I be living out a silly dream stuck in my head
I think not because I've been awake all my days to know it is not a dream .This to me is the butter to my bread

So my troubles are all passing by
I don't let them stay here for this isn't their place
And there is no need for my mind to ask itself why
Because I live my life as my God made it to be
Only he knows the way I should take but of course he created me.

Eyes of a deep, earthy brown meet my gaze – a clash of syllables;
she embodies the essence of the soil.  Her foundation is unwavering,
and she is no one to indulge in the comforts of tepid waters;
she’s meant to ignite.

She leaves me in suspense, yearning – my nerves tremble in the
dawn’s embrace, her presence a jolt to fuel my spirit.

An ode to the morning brew.

He sits on the edge of the bed;
tears rolling, no reason.
             Not sad —
                   just leaking.

Hand across his face,
sniffs, straightens his back.
         Deep breath —
                               Done!

He moves on,
like it never happened at all.

“Never mind,” he says,
                      “that’s just life.”

The eve draws close,
endeavoring to tame my frights,
Yet the sun, a superior champion,
steals the limelight.

With a heavy heart, I exhaled a breath of longing beneath
my silent prayer – perhaps too overoptimistic. Gazing outwards,
I found myself swallowed by the paranoia of my own existence,
and chewed out by the tumultuous journey of time's relentless
exploration.

I held my reflection in a broken piece of glass; staring as the
curious, frigid gaze of a child peering into the depths of your
soul – my inner child gazed back, steeped in wistful nostalgia.

My rich brown skin, reminiscent of freshly tilled soil; labouring
through the toil while tears nourish this earth, as umbrellas lie
forgotten. Steamed by the essence of love, my surroundings
dissipate – my very bones crafted out like fragile paper, and
inscribed with the genetic legacy that tells of my human nature.

Where dreams should stand still; passionately lamenting until
they become a reservoir of still rain – the passage of time pales
in comparison to the pacing of this life. Yet, for the sake of my
aspirations, and having a hand in creating my dreams, I hope
to grasp them all one day.

dilated tears, those that cut through your eyes – in the
silence of hope, I know love will call for me part-time;
working myself just to prove forever. but it always stays
the same, fighting the headache of it all – smiles dissolving
away like an aspirin in a glass of water

where you rest your mind on everything you had; memories
are just gravestones, where we bury ourselves in – hoping
they too find their resurrection

in memory; I’ve written dreams of love on chiselled marble
slabs – lettered in gold, where we loved each other, close
enough to death; ending if all off as two concrete bodies

love makes death jealous, on how good it plays the waiting
game. the still waiting of a grandparent, who reaches their
own old age, knowing in death, they will finally meet their
lover once again.
                love is age, and that love is beautiful!

The burden of life weighed heavily upon me while I was young;
a constant whisper in my ear that I lacked real sweetness, using
tablespoons of sugar to fill my cup. I once held the naive belief that
I would depart this world with a smile, if I ever died too young.
I found myself swearing that my life would plan out better; feeling
as though I would have things figured out – but I tend to swear
mostly under pressure, to a life feeling more like I ****** up.

In a place where the slightest act of indulgence is met with scorn—
where reaching for a bit more water from the *** is seen
as a sacrilege, as if I might taint the very essence of life itself—
yet everyone so is quick to drink out of same big cup. The human
eyes is so oblivious to their own hypocrisy.

My youthful hands, were once so eager to grasp the reins of
responsibility, but trembled with the fear that I could never bear the
weight of what was expected of me, especially to those who nurtured
me with such care, longing to return their kindness with open palms.

Life, it seems, is merely a calculation— a game of figures; whether
you figure it best to navigate it as a devout follower of faith, or as be
a seeker in the chaotic realm where success is only measured by the
right figures.

Ah, what a life it is… go figure!

Cornered by anxiety; 'is it worth the read?'
Exhale heavily; inhale the pressure building up my chest,
Eyes heavy of tears, drowned by this pen's debt.
Something in my eye, blinding me to the sight of life;
A blank canvas, but only an empty creative,
Nothing to inspire at the moment, just Writer's block.

My world is one where shapes collide — I act as a square that
seeks solace, but it’s forced to abide, through life's tight rings, it
strains to pass. Yearning for freedom, a lonely chance to amass.
A longing to think beyond the lines it knows, for a simple shift
—the means to a spirit, that it actually grows.  

As the nights call me softly, while days linger long, in the midst
of their familiar chaos, I must muster my song. While the burden
of now presses heavy and tight; slumber escapes me, lost away
in the night.

I wade through the shadows, each moment isn’t always a gem,
in this fragile ballet, still I cherish them – boxed in my heart; in
this life of a square.

Before there was EVERYTHING
–there was NOTHING

A quiet void of endless,
POTENTIAL

And in that nothing,
–there was CHAOS

If God isn't your EVERYTHING
–then you are left with NOTHING

And to exist in such a state,
is to dwell in CHAOS!

__

Mmmh… a new, swollen blister blooms upon my eye,
a testament to my silent suffering. My mind lingers in the shadows,
a flickering flame that refuses to extinguish, yet devoid of dreams.
Each tear I’ve shed is trapped within an ancient jar, sinking into
the depths of a vast ocean, yearning for the tide that might one
day carry them away.

Will my dreams rise again, soaring like a fleeting spark,
threatening to pierce my very soul—or perhaps the dreams
of those who dared not believe?

Mmmh… my heart beats in rhythm with the relentless
march of time; the ticking of clocks, their gears grinding slowly—
half-alive, biding their moment until the final hour strikes.
My imagination relentlessly pursues a dream, even as they
dissolve into the void of oblivion.

My chest has hollowed, teetering on the brink of collapse
under the weight of my self-imposed despair. For every bridge
I’ve traversed or set ablaze, I feel the presence of a solitary bridge,
echoing with loneliness. Yet, one might surrender hope—
if only…

There were a thousand roses
in my eyes; as I had seen the light
of the sun kissing a flower
It had touched the petals of your hair,
sweetened in a desirous aroma
Tied in a knot; not a single strand of it
was out of place. But I felt out of place,
-stranded

I'd never lose the number of my own words,
but in a moment I couldn't count on them at all
                
                         I was in awe.

Beyond my current state lies a distance
that feels even more distant than my
aspirations. A day of tranquility lives
solely in our daydreams,
beckoning the fragments of my being
to come back, urging my thoughts to
gather once more.

____

I am the void that lingers between the
stanzas of a flawless poem—words that
falter in their imperfection.
My voice is silent, with so much
to say - a paradox that leaves me frozen;
lingering moments before revealing your
vulnerabilities. Oh, the despair!
My faith lies fragmented and adrift—
these whispered prayers sway back
and forth, yearning to hold significance.

____

Do I hold any significance at all,
composed of the very essence of atoms
colliding in a chaotic dance?
"Dissolved," I melt into nothingness,
like ice under the sun, reshaping into
the visage of any soul that touches me,
flowing like water.

          Alas, I seem to be dead again!

I may be patient, but nothing close to love sick –
Mind my twisted thoughts, to the twist of my hand;
The handy character, still carrying their tender wrist –

My heart beats true, to the beat of being so tender –
But it’s so hard, learning to love those I long to hate,
And I always ask myself, “can I really do all of this”

Yet, I don’t expect the purest of love from a heart –
A wicked place; a hollow that can pompously say,
“I love you,” with deceitful lips.

Actions speak louder than words; as your actions
All carry their own intentions, that you choose not
To whisper them all – only the heart knows!

I shouldn't show how heavy I cry,
biting my lip, to swallow spit.
The fourth shouting,
accidentally changing into fifth,
at the time my father was teaching
me how to drive.

So like a dog on a street,
with puppy eyes for those misfortunate.
A young man close to my age,
begging me for the little of my wage.
I guess I'm an open hand to all the
people I feed. But I closed my fist on
this memory of a brother calling me a b...

When I was told I don't know how
to really hustle, Wasting my
time on writing; a couple puns just to
make myself chuckle.

A lot of those I love, much
love to diss, to a point of all my faults.
I put it all together saying,
       "I'm so sorry to disappoint"
At my age I should have moved out of
my parents house.

As I have/had this dream,
that only a few see and believe;
I've been working on it with every hustle
and every kind of scheme,
to impress you, and give you a grin,
As I can't smell your best intentions,
through the hustling giving me a nose bleed.

Everything feels so grim,
but even in graveyard shifts,
I try to reap what I sow.
But not everything you put out has
something for it to show. Not every
wish you bury has a chance to grow.

Twenty-two years,
wondering what I can show to peers.
I know they'll cheer my successes,
but never acknowledge the tears.

So I'll just pen down my tears,
of all twenty-two years.

And shall the taste of forever be spoken
from His lips,
His thoughts are not of my thoughts;
neither are our ways the same.
He surely rests high above both our thoughts
and our ways. But still on Earth;
he let’s the snows and rains of Heaven come
down to us.
All things bud and flourish.

Yielding seeds to the daily bread,
he has provided.
Never to let me go a night hungry;
for I’ve been given provisions of the day.

In joy; I am led to peace.
In love; His glory I seek.
In words; are blessings He speaks.
And in actions, the love of Jesus is seen in me.

He invites us all;
but only the few will accept the invitation.

I'm a thought riding in the
back of your mind.
It must be a taxi cab.
Left my impression on you like
a fading image. A tattoo on your hand.

First impressions, are the ones  
with the most weight.
It all becomes a series of steps upon that scale.
I just hope the first time wasn't a mistake.

Subtle comforts,
nonchalant cuddles under
the covers of your pretty eyes.

Undercover kisses, as like
every star coming out at night.

All soon to become a bright tomorrow;
oh my darling,- I want to show you off
to the entire world in such a glorious light.

Time, my fading memories over there, wait let me grab hold of that,
Ok back to the plot, hey there crazy world it's me, that stranger in a building of known people, ain't that a fact.
Anyway it was early morning when it felt as I got up around late afternoon,
I must have really enjoyed my sleep, but of course I kissed goodnight a full moon.
But wait a second and pause a moment in time,
Today was another day ready to be come old, when it finally passes, I'm definitely calling that day mine.

I first had to wake up my heart, now my mind had to follow,
And I heard about true love out there, I wanted to steal it though but I rather stand and wait, rather to borrow.
But enough of that, let's move on to my day,
I woke up for moments in life, so I'm living life in a different kind of way.
Give myself a high five for that and get ten back,
Then swing by my emotions, make sure it's all in check, good, good, everything is in perfect stack.


Because my days, these days are often to long,
But I make it this far, it never killed me so I'm made much strong

On tippy toes, dancing with the Devil; the tipsy ballerina – tattooed
her dreams underneath a piece of Silk. And there's a lace upon my
window eyes, to see through her pain; she seems so brainwashed,
and in such a daze – as rain fell on her hair.

Her skin was once so fair, nowadays it seems to be paying a fare, for
all those potholes up the road to her smile. I splashed in the puddles
of a few wet kisses – speaking less, but hearing a lot of, “all men are
just the same,” as for me, society’s standard of beauty all looks, and
tastes the same.

I held you, kissed you – lending out a lens, to blind my eyes from
seeing your ugly friends. Those you hate in secret; telling me how
MUCH you hate them, and my hate for them, must ALSO be good
at playing pretend.

As you pout your mouth – talking about how much I should bank
on your heart – is that the reason you keep an account on all the
things I've done wrong, to make me lose interest in our love?

Love can feel like it’s around the corner; too busy playing on these
streets, in the present tense – hoping to receive our gifts. But when
love has run its course, it’s a static image of joy; the two are just GIFs.

I’ve got diamond eyes, but don’t see myself so clear,
All the excited boys make the most noise,
Yet depression only needs to whisper in an ear.

Words are prison bars; speaking highly of yourself
the danger of being handed a lengthy sentence–
Booked in the library of time; days sitting on a shelf.

… waiting to be read

Let me stay shelved a little longer— reading up,
leading up, dreaming of a story still becoming
Between the lines; silent – even good stories gather dust
These tales of triumph still tarnish and rust…

Don't judge by how loud or how fast it all looks—
even the best stories get forgotten in books…
misunderstood!

The seed in the ground is surrounded by dark –
Under the dark shadow where it’s born,
It waits in hope, every day, every hour
The flower that can only dream of what
It’s meant to be, still as a seed

And the day will come, where it’s hope
Isn’t so dark; for hope begins in the dark –
As you only value a spark when it clears out
The dark; there where life is; you can find
Hope in the most unlikely places

We bear in our eyes, struggles heavy in tears
Seconds, minutes, hours, days, weeks, and years
Close to the edge of a breaking point
But once that beautiful hope finally comes out
Won’t you ask, “where have you been hiding”

Call in the cavaliers to chase me down for all the wrongs I've done,
Call in the cavaliers for this battle is still not won.
Tell them all I've tried to fix the things that aren't mine,
Tell them I tried to do things that aren't mine,
Tell them that I've wasted too much time

Call in the cavaliers for I've mistaken little for all,
trying to steal the riches left out for the poor,
Pushing down the enemies trying to make the weak fall.
Call in the cavaliers for they know what to do,
The things that must be done to fix it all,
the things I broke that need to be made brand new.

Call in the cavaliers to make my amends with those I hurt,
for those I had dumped my pains, set fires to have their hearts left burnt.
Call in the cavaliers to show me how to start it all again,
To fix my heart, to heal my soul,
to face this days, fix it all and to know when.

I need the cavaliers for they know my mistakes and what must be done,
To fix and mend it all to what it once was,
To finish the good fight for this battle is won.

You’d say it’s the last of your lust,
“Still would we stay strong, and not bust when I bust”
Even when the feeling of wanting to party,
comes around partly,
Hardly though, according to a recent thought, —
I’m a little box-shaped heart; of my love’s accordion.

And as soon as someone finds a nut in a nutshell;
it would be coming from a hard external covering,
before busting another nut.
A cruel notion that what usually ***** the most,
is the most you’re forced to swallow.

Just as *** sells; ***** intentions sort of smells,
—making sense of any humor, chasing after a laugh.
Though I’m quite convinced that the woman wants one
extra arrival, while the man is the first one to come.
    “You hear it as an awkward after laugh”

The feeling was premature; a broken timing for a
jack in the box—a story of premature *******.

Them: How do you know that you've finally gotten over your ex?

Me: When the drunk version of me laughed at the idea of texting them
late at night!

They've labeled me a thief,
yet I've never stolen someone's heart.

Countless times, they've called me a fool,
but I can never claim to be a fool in love.

They've called me a pretty someone,
yet I often feel like a pretty mess.

I've only cheated once,
but life cheats me more than I deserve.

They've called me the spoiled child,
yet I still act like a child, a man who feels spoiled.

I've done my best to be on time,
yet I always feel so late for success.

And I've tried to maintain a strong drive,
but it feels like I'm being driven to insanity.

Through the ashy clouds, what can I see deep in my eyes,
Feelings of old, times of new, sounds of truths shading shadows of lies.
A moment in a heart to cause a second of earthly breathe,
To hear the sounds of regret, yet to see beyond that, flashing lights of new hope in depth.

As the stars shine across a thousand galaxies, planets and worlds a like,
Men and women  would shine across each others lives for the mountains we all must hike.
Give them hope to themselves you shining star of a glowing wonderous night.
For who truly sees any man's foreshadow lest they shinning in your one true light.

Cast the shadows of this world to the places far beyond.
Free from what our hands can grab hold to reach, farewell my troubles, best be heading along.

Yonder as far as your mind could take you, get lost in your dreams,
Get back to the place back to where it all began, close your ears from the sounds of all your doubtful screams.
Tell us what you've found, show us all your blessings and greatest wins,
Shall we all celebrate with you as you complete your journey, celebrating our humble glories as if we were humble Kings and Queens.

Tell me;

when does the suffering end, when does the weight lift up,
of waiting on unanswered prayers? Who else is out there to
place all the blame on, when your self-blamed self blames
you right back?  

who do you believe in less, firstly - God or yourself?
When facing all of the four walls, whose pinned up walls
stand much stronger? Who is fed firstly – an empty stomach,
or your poverty’s hunger?

For I am beginning to rest myself on canine sugars – a mutt
chasing after the sweetness of biting their own tail. Whereas
your daily bread seems to have gone a bit stale!

I’m not ready to die; but then again – I’m not so willing
to stay. And that makes for this to be… a scary prayer!

Him: I’ll love you forever!

Her: That seems a bit cliché…

Him: Well… forever will never die, yet we all must face the end someday. However, if I can cradle my love in the embrace of a forever, and perhaps we cross paths in another life, I would relish the chance to fall in love all over again.