I was once a Comet
Racing through space in a blind fury
Towards some unknown goal that was so much bigger than I
That I stay trapped in an orbit so super massive
Everywhere I go and everything I see becomes the first time I've seen it
I was once a Comet.
My light burned so brightly everyone within hundreds of thousands of miles could see
And they watched as I accelerated with joy and pride in their hearts
Making wishes and hoping the universe grants it
I was once a Comet
And because I was unable to see myself
I believed them when they said I was on fire
That I was some ever burning torch
Destined to give my light for millennia.
I was once a Comet
And as I traveled, my mass decreased
Bits of stone and ice were lost as my stardust began to strike stagnant meteors and debris
I began to slow
My light became dim
I no longer receive the wishes of the people.
Their cries of pride and joy are a ghost to me now
A shadow of a phantom
I no longer feel the warmth from my travels
And as my light fades
And I blend into the eternal, ever stretching black sheet that is our universe
I will always remember
I was once a Comet.
I get angry at you a lot these days.
Not for the drugs
Or for the intermittent appearances like a commercial during my favorite show
Or for the arguments you couldn't bother to hide from me
Or for the distaste you held for my father so ******* proudly that anyone on our block could tell you about how many near fist fights my mom had to pull you out of
Or for the times I'd find you locked away in your room crying so ******* hard you couldn't speak or look at me
Or for the times you got lost in space while I was talking to you about important things
No. Not for these beautiful moments of you in your rawest forms.
I get angry when I remember how much I ******* loved you
I get angry when I remember your favorite foods, and sounds-
I can't even ******* look at Mickey Mouse anymore without almost breaking down
I get angry because I remember how easily you could calm me down and help me regain control
Because out of EVERYONE in that household, you loved me enough to figure me out.
I get angry because I took the time to repay that respect just to have it spit in my eye
I get angry on the days I think about my childhood and remember how you smiled but not the laugh.
I get angry when I remember you telling me not to be a cry baby, each and every time those floodgates break
In fact I heard it three times when writing this
I get angry because now, as an adult
I can see myself following your foot steps
And I've never been more proud
And I can see that I've outlived you; surpassed the place you left your last mark
And I am hurt that I no longer have your portrait like footprints to guide me
I get angry that you made yourself my older sister when you saw I had no one
And that I loved you so much your death still brings me to shakes 15 years later.
I get angry because you died
And more importantly
No one said you were allowed to do that before me
And I get angry because I know that wasn't your choice
So when I picture the last time I saw that car
And imagine what it was like with you still in it
I bleed myself in your honor.
So I'll run
I'll run so ******* fast and far it'll make you think of when we used to foot race
Or when we played tag together and I was always it because you were too quick
I'll scream in rage and in fear
I'll scratch my arms and slice my fingers until my skin matches my carved out soul
I'll rip the Earth apart into nothing but my love for you
Until the day I can end this good mourning
By hearing you sing your bird like chime
"Good Morning, Get up, Let's go"
My uncle committed suicide with a scarf and a hotel room door two years ago.
I've been living right next door to a loaded gun within a toddlers grasp for almost as long.
Does it make him a better man than I if I choose to meet my end
Looking down a one way tunnel,
Or should I try to meet him half way,
And use a belt and my bedroom door?
I'm only asking so I don't **** this up
Better men than I have flowed down this path, and if there's one thing I am
It's not a Better Man.
Sometimes I listen to the trains go by
And I pretend I jump on one
Not really sure where im going
But that doesn't really matter
Sometimes in this fantasy I worry
Which is ridiculous because it's just a fantasy
You shouldnt have to worry about things you only think about
Can't keep my chin up if it's gonna keep getting hit
Someone once said I was a fanatic of escapism
That I would never find peace if I never stopped moving
But let me ask you;
Can you name a creature that doesn't move?
They shake with the wind, and shower all below them with leaves
Further cementing their carved throne as the elders of our planet
Mushrooms, dogs, lizards, fish
I could name creatures and organisms that 'move' for days
I could give you a fact about each of them
And teach you why darwinism has blessed that specific species with its touch
They said I'm an escapist
Someone who runs from trouble and problems
Or maybe from life itself
Or maybe in circles
When you're a pine tree in a green house there is no such thing as escapism
There's drive to live and acceptance of demise
The only two forms of black and white that's even remotely close to the chessboard you're picturing
My drive to live isn't escapism
So when my branches break your windows,
When my canopy and height topples this ceramic plated greenhouse,
Dont you dare say it was an escape attempt.
I didn't escape. I didn't even leave.
I did as a pine tree does
And I Grew.
I've been thinking a lot lately
In the last few years I've been to two funerals
In the next few years that number could jump to six
So how do you do it?
How does one manage to speak at a funeral?
What do you say to encapsulate the entire lifespan of a human
In just a few sentences?
How am I supposed to be able to talk about all the good and compassionate deeds
While also talking about all the hurtful and venomous actions and words?
And more importantly how do you speak in general?
The last two times, my voice became a snow covered field cricket
I stared at their stone-like, alien faces
And could only focus on the open casket.
I had words to speak, yes
But the dictionary I keep in mind was slammed shut and shoved into a melting iron safe
The absolute SECOND I couldn't recognize who lay before me at first glance.
Did I try to speak?
I avoided the tearful, dagger filled looks of the room by my own volition
Maybe it wasn't my place.
Maybe those words weren't meant for me to say in a room full of grieving and tired eyes
But if no one else is capable of speaking the truth no matter how heart-wrenching it may be
Where do those words come from?
I know it'll be my turn to speak one day
And I know on that day my voice will scream and cry
My vocal chords will rip and I will sob more so than I have ever dared to before.
On that day I'll understand how to say goodbye
And how it leads to an acceptable