Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Why does winning
Matter so
Much?

It breeds jealousy
Disappointment
Pride
Hate
Inferiority
Superiority
Frustr­ation
Determination
Annoyance
Bitterness

Can't you just
Admit
You lost
To it?

It's just a game
After all
Soaring high, high above the sky,
Imagining a dream that you could fly,
And never again would you cry.

A promenade on land turns into a quest to find happiness,
Searching, but only discovering the dullness,
Arms stretched out to welcome the kindness.

You leave the rocky shores behind, praying the waves
Will wash the sorrow away, and fill the caves
Of your heart; your own hero, who protects and saves.

Violent rays of gentle sunlight present a new way
Of believing today's a different day;
Smiling will make everything okay.

A simple grin will turn the skies from grey to blue,
Not often used, especially by you,
But when you smile, the world smiles too.

Your laugh will kiss your tears goodbye.
Never again will your jovial eyes cry,
As the smile on your face becomes a new way to fly.
Poems aren't always written
With a paper an pencil
They aren't always typed
In ink and with a signature
Sometimes poems are written
With the lips of a teary-eyed lover
Or the laughter of a young hospital patient
Or even the silence of two comfortable friends
A liberation
From the permanent
Weight
On your face

Clear crisp outlines
And details
Blur into
Fuzz

Your eyes relax and start
To adjust
The orchestra begins
To play

The players
Dressed in black
Look like dancing
Shadows
The light spaces
Between them
Take up a shape
Of their own
Everyday feels like a constant s t r u g g l e
A little girl washed out in the w
                                                     a
                                                        v
     ­                                                     e
          ­                                                    s
And everyday she tries to keep her head up
She gets pulled deeper to her grave
Her silent screams can't be heard
She is a slave of the sea
And maybe when she drowns
Everyone can see what is wrong with me.
Next page