I waited
Loyal, by the window for my prince to return from battle
Or for you to come home from work
But it seemed to feel the same
(As) I waited
To find solace in smiling eyes
That never failed to flip the switch
So I could see the light in me

I mimicked
Poker faces and faraway places
In accents we wished could be ours
You taught me to want more than now can offer
And I’m anxious to see where later will lead

I idolized
This deity more worthy than any I’ve found
And when they asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up
I said,
“A technical writer, just like my dad”
And it didn’t matter what ever the **** that was
Or its salary
Because, to me, being like you was the best thing I could do

I needed
Your bedtime songs to find sleep in the dark
With a voice that somehow sounded like pride
When you spoke of me
Warmth
When you spoke to me
Knowledge
And resilience
And a difference
All your own

I detached


Slowly


Without noticing


Gaps


Where there were once bridges


Realizing


Too late


I was too old


To hide under your covers


When the bad dreams came


Too old


To cuddle up on your lap


And squeeze you so tight you could never get away

But it was me
Getting away
Without knowing
Where to go

I felt
Time locking me out
Away from you
To find me
And I know
I’ve ****** up in the process
And I know
I’ll **** up in the process
But if the apple doesn't fall far from the tree
How great that means I may be

The plagiarist is somebody
who loves the high regard.
Talent less and lazy and
lack a sense of working hard.

Its easier to copy,
take credit for another's trade
because they lack accomplishment,
it makes them feel afraid.

Afraid, because of inadequacy
in what they do or say
they want the credit of their peers
without a price too pay.

Incompetent and shallow
might cause these beasts to steal.
They like to boast of mastery
but of course this is not real

Shameful in their thievery
could never achieve the work they stole
but perhaps when they're pretending
this helps to make them feel whole.

This should not make them happy.
This should not make them glad.
In fact it should reiterate
that they are really, very sad!

On the railroad of life
I stopped many times
I put my feet
Down
Slowly
Stepping
Off the platform
I looked around
Stayed in this place a while,
But the engine grew
Cold,
Still,
Yearned,
To travel further on,
I had gained much luggage
On my stops,
Tracks buckled, strained under life,
I had to
Release,
Worries,
Pains,
I let them fly free
White Doves
Released,
I moved on slow
Brakes were moaning
Screeching,
Screaming,
Life
Needed to only be travelled
So far,
That last platform,
I stood, smelt the air
Felt the earth between my
Fingers,
Toes,
Feet,
I had travelled so far on the tracks
But know it was time
To let the engine run cold,
Tracks grew flowers upon them
I had travelled far
But now knew I was home..

one can only hope
to taste freedom from the mind
oppressed deep inside

When the tide comes in
the tide holds back
for
no man
no woman
no child.

It keeps on rising.
You're going to get your feet wet first
your ankles are next
but
it's not stopping there
your legs and thighs
your stomach too
as
panic
starts to set in.

Your will won't stop it
Your prayers won't stop it
Your love won't even slow it down.

Ego disintegrates immediately
but that tide still rolls on in.

Some will try to hold on like
flags in the rising waters
some will swim
others will run
some passively will perish.

This tide, like change, will not recede
and those that survive
are those that ran to higher ground
as the water receded from the land
for they
knew exactly what it was
they were seeing.