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Javier Garza Aug 2017
if you want to bask in the shine of this double edge sword, bear the bittersweet bliss of being around him while the whole time hoping for more, expecting less, and enjoying the moment as it happens
Javier Garza Jul 2017
He struggles to drag the pencil
Can't find the strength to pick up the brush
Falls into the pure canvas

How can he depict the colors that haunt him
The vivid oils that torment him

With shaking hands,
The pen floats above the untainted
To smear the dark ink would be to sin

Tears are all the empty canvas take
No polluted graphite to smear it
Paint won't wound the prestine white

Preserve the innocent
Protect the untainted
Even if it's a lie,
Even if under the surface colors reign in chaos
Javier Garza Jul 2017
We're on the same ship
Sailing through vicious storms
Bearing through the cold dark

But we're landing on different shores
Seeing different worlds
Walking different paths
Javier Garza Jul 2017
Bottle after bottle
Liquor can't save you
No escape

Unprovoked attacks
To redirect your anger
The disappointment you can't evade

Ashamed of what you once were
Tried to wash your hands
But the muddy water didn't evaporate

Haunting you everyday
The shadow of pain
You can't run from who you were

No matter how much to close your eyes
Things won't change
I'm here to stay
The hurt you hate
Javier Garza Mar 2017
I welcomed the pain
Shrouded myself in self loathing
I forged my armor in the coals of my anger
Soaked my blade in a well of tears

I made my suffering my power
Found strength in being broken

Fighting through,
I never backed down,
Always kept pushing
Bearing my teeth to all who stood in my way

But when there's no one left to fight,
How can I cling onto my pain?
The one thing that made me strong
Will eventually dissipate
And all that'll be left, is to find strength elsewhere
Javier Garza Mar 2017
Stood tall,
Took the blame
Never thought twice about it

Kept on fighting
Trying to see through the dark
Not realizing my flame went out

Legs gave out
When did I stop registering the pain?

The tears kept running down the canyon
Same old river that cut through the solid earth

Fell to the ground
Weight finally breaking my body

Tried to lead them
Hold them up high
Protect them so they never bear this pain

Lying down now broken and weak
Who'll hold me?
Who'll block the sharp winds,
The unending storms?

But most importantly,
Who'll take my spot once I'm dead and gone?
Unable to protect them any more,
Does that mean I've failed?
Javier Garza Jan 2017
I'm not motivated at all. I once held high aspirations, dreams unlike most, fought to be strong, to hold my pride and marvel at my strength, to accomplish what most can't. Yet I grew weary. It's a constant battle. If not my own, the others and the world's. Constant trumoil, with little true accomplishments. Watching as it all begins to rot, knowing that changing that is near to impossible. For it is these thoughts, that call for revolution, for change, for justice, true unbiased justice. To be born in a world where ignorance gets you killed and ridiculed, yet no matter what, we remain with some sort of blindfold, ignorant forevermore. To unveil it and see with true eyes, to see the depressing reality, why it crushes what little hope I held for humanity. Dimmed it down to a low flickering flame. I rather leave the blindfold, even if I can see through it, at least it'll block some of reality away. Because no one truly lives in it anymore. They all hide with their "justified" thoughts. Believing only their way is correct. That any other path will lead to self destruction. Not trying to seek other roads, to detach themselves and see life for what it is. Instead they aim to create life what the wish for it to be. With many individuals doing this, reality isn't real. But a mirage. And the battle isn't to bring peace or make things right, but to have their mirage be the strongest, to make it reality. So to hell with it. Let my soul slumber for now, to heal itself from what it's seen. The good isn't enough. Too much hate and darkness pollutes life. When my hide is thicker, when my hold on his mirage is stronger, I will aim to disperse it, to clear the fog. But what if at the end, my reality is nothing but my own mirage? One too weak to bring joy?
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