Someone once told you,
“Boys don’t cry.”
And for a while,
you believed them.

But like a flower,
kissed by the sun
and nurtured by the rain,
you opened yourself to the world.

And the world can be harsh.
Cloudy days can be cruel.
But if you wait for the sun,
I promise it will come back.

Your empathy may destroy you,
but that’s the price you must pay
to feel happiness and love
as deeply as you do.

And they will tell you,
“You are weak.”
But darling,
you are not weak.

And they will tell you
“You are less than.”
But darling,
you are more.

Boy who cries, you are beautiful.
But they will tell you
you are not.

Don’t listen.

Lucky are those who have found love
and been loved.

Lucky are those who bear the gift of face.
   Easy is for them to find an easy case
            for their own taste
     - a goal for their own base.

Lucky are those who has an outstanding confidence.
For by it, they don’t live with a doubtful fence.
Freely as they get any wants in their existence.

I give away smiles, pieces of my lies,
        pretending not having rainy skies.
Hiding my Breathless sighs.

Sometimes I am like a rock
   too dull to feel, a surface too rough.
A sense I lost, an unreachable core,
I don’t know how to love anymore.



*© 2014 Pax

Every card I was dealt said bad decision, so how can anyone expect me not to draw? I will shoot and aim higher with phenomenal precision even if it means a bullet lands in your head.

I'm through playing games,
I'm through listening
Everyone likes to hear themselves talk
But we all know money walks the walk
Too many followers mimicking;
Cheerleaders
Too many followers tweeting
All birds
No bees
They sees where I reside
All rhythm and blues
You snooze?
You lose
We play for keeps
But yet every card
I was dealt
Said bad decision
I wonder what it'll take
For one of us
To gain some vision.

this house is cool and dark,
occupants in the meleé of sleep:
outwards, peaceful;
inwards, facing demons and dark fantasies.

Morning light ushers through glass and open panels, gently probes,
but to no avail....they lay rest in quiet.
I greet her at the window with a tired smile.

we know each other well.

awake, I am.
dreaming, I am not.
but who's to say it isn't an illusion
since no one else can tell me so?

stuck at crossroads. urge to feel and  taste outside air.
Morning and I will leave the quiet residents to sleep in,
and I will run my restless bones
until I know the world once more.

i've found it much easier to have nothing than to have half of something
even smooth rocks become sharp when you break them in half
that's why i felt so much better when you left
i would rather feel nothing than lay in a bed of broken glass