Mirrors,
Are just glass,
And those scales,
Are just numbers.

Everyday,
You rely on them.
To tell you your worth,
As if they can speak.

You let them control you,
Let them consume you,
Every thought,
Every moment.

You let others,
Control your actions,
For just a fleeting moment,
Of trying to fit in.

But what if I told you,
That isn’t needed.
What if I told you,
That you have been cheated.

Would you believe me?
If I told you that they lie,
Or how they do not truly see you,
So you don’t have to cry.

For that glass does not know,
The smiles you bring,
For that number does not know,
The joyous tunes you sing.

But darling just remember.

For that mirror,
Is just glass,
And those scales,
Are just numbers.

even
longing
loses
me

memories
shattered into a thousand pieces
thinking about the past
constantly
memories
of you everywhere
our sayings
our places
now
in the present
have no meaning
pretending
nothing happened and the past is the past
but the memories
always present
i can go there with somebody else but
it's not the same
because the memories
will always
be with you

This is for no one but me...and I will have anyone who is caught hacking any of my computers thrown directly into one of the jails for life. Part of me, on the inside, screams nearly endlessly in such a spectacular fashion; I just have to deal with it or I will die and everything...but not forever...because my spirit will simply depart from this vessel and I’ll probably take shape somewhere else in the universe. I have the final word and say and everything about my life and/or existence so I gotta make it really great or I’m a loser.
I don’t wanna be a loser; no one does...not even losers.
Why do I feel like screaming and who or what do I feel like screaming to or at?
Things are so crazy. I don’t even know what to do with my time. I have been here for so long. I hope things go from good or okay to amazing and happy. What do I have to worry about? What am I doing right or wrong? These are good questions. I don’t have all the answers. Sometimes I barely know what to do. Are things better or worse?
I make a lot of decisions...even if it doesn’t seem like I do.
This is the type of thing you’d wanna do with something like this. The statue on my desk rattles too much as I type. I don’t like it...like the statue...just not the way it rattles. The problem is solved because I just repositioned the statue in such a way that it no longer rattles against the wall.
All I care about is typing.

Like a being frantically tapping away,
I want to hit the back button,
Bring back the day,
The day all seemed so fine,
Before i typed out the impending doom.....
(C)eileenmcgreevy@ymail.com 2018