on the outside, nobody'd ever known he was unhappy.
he had his mother's eyes, soft and blue,
reminded me of babies for some reason.
he used to pop in every now and then to give me the news,
gossip he'd heard at school that day,
the what-not.
i was real sick at the time, mama had to keep me hidden away sometimes,
ya know, i think she was a little ashamed seeing how it was a little her fault.
i didn't blame her for nothin' though.
anyways, he came and went as he pleased, nice boy he was.
used to wrap me up in a blanket and wheel me onto the porch so we could watch
the cars and the rich folk with dogs jog right on by, like they ain't never seen a girl with no hair
and a boy as handsome as he was.
we was a regular spectacle, a bonafide freak show,
and them people they always gonna talk, but he told me that the only people that listen are
the ones doin' the talkin', and that ain't us, so we ain't listenin'.
i didn't find out about his daddy until about a month after it happened,
for some reason people have a hard time telling someone who's dying that somebody died,
can you believe that?
he stopped comin' around so much after that, figured it was 'cause a his mama (with the eyes)
needin' extra help round the house.
weeks, maybe even a month went by 'fore i saw him again,
but he wasn't the same boy, and i sure as hell wasn't the same girl.
he looked at me, with them eyes, as if he'd just lost the lottery.
ya know, he sat me down and told me that he couldn't be around me no more,
seeing as how i was dyin' and all. ( i thought that was pretty dumb, i may be dyin' but i ain't dead yet)
he held my hand in his, his was a little clammy, i think 'cause he was so sad and all.
we sat there for a few minutes, hand in hand, thinkin' bout life and death, and the johnny carson show.
now, he never said nothin', but i think he loved me. i never got to find out the truth though.
he disappeared after that day, nobody heard from him, his mama was all outta sorts.
i think he left town, couldn't stand seein' people lookin' at him and me all the time,
the bonafide freakshow,
couldn't stand bein' round his broken mama.
doesn't really matter where he went off to, he was gone just the same.
some days, when im sittin' on the porch, wrapped up in a blanket, waiting to die,
i feel his clammy hand holdin' mine.
you see, when you don't have much left to live for,
it's people like him that save you.

Ever wondered how does that person breaks who is second? The one who couldn't win because he missed with a few points? The one who is left behind because he didn't compare to the winner? No, and his devastation is the biggest heartbreak because he was everything the winner was, and just a little less, and the greatest loss felt is by him and not the person last in race. His determination was that of winner and yet no one's going to remember him but only the winner

Yes,
I recognise, there is a need in this world. And this world is trenching, parched and suffocated. It asks for us, to be more negotiable, not just to the world but to ourself. Why, do we have to seem to be so strong, and so brave, so fearless and so precious and outnumbered. Why we always have to be unnegotiable to ourselves and flogg ourselves with intangible instruments of unwanted emotions like guilt ,remorse, anger ,suspicion ,doubt , helplessness. Why, you don't have to. Why not just be raw?
You could be original, you could make deals with yourself, you could balance emotions. The world didn't make it perfect, did it? Do you see the world perfect?
You see creases, valleys , beaches ,sand,mountain and you see crestfalls, hollowness, drowsiness in depts don't you?
The world never asked you to be perfect, you asked something so lame for yourself .
Do you realise even , that if you became oh so perfect (which you can not) you won't even recognise yourself?
This world we have changed, asked better for us.
We tranced our evolution for living better .
But what transformation we want to bring makes us whirl down an empty harsh road to self destruct where a person forgets to evolove to live better life, instead all he does is altogether stop.
Give your world a life.
Give yourself a meaning you know you want.
Be original.
Be you.

Something's just fall right away, without your prior notice without any warnings. You stand there fazed,undoubtedly dubious and straining to comprehend what is happening around you. You are expected to react, to show rage, disappointment, frustration, anguish, anxiety anything. The person is waiting for you to listen to their version of explanation writhing with guilt and anticipation. You though are stricken by some uncanny force which had ****** all your senses and the world is spinning in an instant blur and for you only one thing is clear - that nothing is clear .
You dwell on memories then, trying to find any spare strand of memory which hints,points, accuses of a possible future like present. Anything to say that you weren't this ignorant, that somewhere you were warned.

I don't know why now, however I was gazing at this picture in which I was dressed in a black dress and your arms are snaked around my waist, my head inched towards your shoulder and your gaze falling on me,  and suddenly it seemed so agonisingly pleasant how happy I was in that moment. And somehow all that happened between us didn't mattered looking at the picture, yes we aren't together now. In that frozen moment you holded me and I would have preferred no one else. In that snapped picture it was you and me for each other , loving ,caring , filled with affection . that moment captured in the photograph , I realised will remain like that always, that in that picture you and me will remain forever, lasting till it needs to fade, persisting in memory , in frozen times, in pictures ,in stares.
So maybe we are over now, but in some plane where there is no reason you and I still exist together, where there is no need for explanations, of lost love and evaporate feelings. Where you and I will last forever.

You see sometimes you don't want words to describe you, what you desire is to feel it simply because writing it would mean giving it a shape, a form ,an account. And you don't want that. All you want is to seize what the moment is embracing you in. Giving it words means to define it,to be able to put it in words which makes the overwhelming mess small, and you can't give words to something that is indescribable, larger than life. So maybe that's why we don't write everything. Some things just lives in that moments and like  fireworks burns brighter than fire enlighing your whole dark life and then dies in that instance, both defying and denying the night of your impending life.

You see sometimes you don't want words to describe you, what you desire is to feel it simply because writing it would mean giving it a shape, a form ,an account. And you don't want that. All you want is to seize what the moment is embracing you in. Giving it words means to define it,to be able to put it in words which makes the overwhelming mess small, and you can't give words to something that is indescribable, larger than life. So maybe that's why we don't write everything. Some things just lives in that moments and like  fireworks burns brighter than fire enlighing your whole dark life and then dies in that instance, both defying and denying the night of your impending life.