Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
I should be happy
I should be thrilled

Counting the days off
Till I see a friend

Getting to enjoy simple pleasures
And rediscovering myself in them

And yet
Through all the holiday joy

I'm numb
And drained

Perhaps I do carry the world
When I make everyone else feel better
And don't have enough for myself
Why is it
that everything must be
determined by numbers

How many likes
How many shares
How much it costs

Everything but how many hours it takes
to create something

A poem is mere seconds
A painting is hours
A craving is days
A photo is months
A book is years

but a memory is a lifetime

So when did we as conscious humans
start rating each other
on a number
to determine our worth?
Why do I jump before told
Why do I run when I'm scared
Why do I hide in fear

Oh silly mind
oh silly heart
oh silly instinct

Nothing could be worse
then the thorns on my arms
and being forced to move
Oh silly me
for falling in love

Oh silly me
for thinking it would be possible

Oh silly me
For falling for you

Simple and sweet
**** and dangerous

Yet I care
Oh silly me
Such a simple thing
The concept of looking beyond flaws
Understanding a person
Inside and out
Choosing them to cherish and hold
To guide and protect you

Should have been a happy moment
Rewatching a classic
Smiling that I resembled the main character
Laughing that I had her personality

But I didn't laugh
I didn't smile
Because all I saw

Was a little girl, who called her father a beast
And fell in love with a little devil instead
I should be working
I should be up and moving
and yet
I'm sitting here
looking at the stars
wondering how far they are from me
and wondering how I can get to you

ride a shooting star
forget everything for a night
finally hold forever in my hands

but I just sit here
looking at the stars
pondering
wondering
thinking

of you
Silent sobs
tears running down the face
Screams that will never be vocalized
feelings cut before they grow

for every rose bush
has its throns
and every bud
suffocates before it blooms
Next page