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Aug 2015 · 499
Puzzled peace
I found a piece of myself today
Lodged in a baby stroller getting off the train
I didn't know it was there until I reached in to help
I did a poor job of it but still
The mother patted me on the shoulder
And said a foriegn word of thanks

I found a piece of myself today
I didn't know I'd lost
Aug 2015 · 382
I want...
I want to get out
out of my bed, my room
get out and see the sun
see my friends

I want to go out
have fun
get way too drunk
go out
fall, get back up again

I want to get out
out of my head
away from my dread
the crushing doubt

I want so much
to be free from myself
myself, I am my own
disability
...liability

I want to be able to say
I´m ok
I´m great
with conviction
and I want it to be true
Aug 2015 · 380
This Time Around
what is this?
is that hope I see?
is that the light at the end of this endless
black tunnel?
can it be, that it´s finally my turn
to bask in the sunlight again?

ah, to be light as a feather and carefree once more.
to have a mind
void of worries and fears.
to lift my gaze towards the the future
with all it´s uncertainties
and say:
«I´m not scared of you anymore!»

to face the oncoming winter
with it´s cold, gloomy grasp
and know it won´t break me this time!
this year my coat will be lined with warm memories
and burning resolve.
knowing the frost won´t burn my soul
this time

this time around
I hope
I will get it right
it´s not that my mind is that dark
that is to say
that my thoughts and moods
are a perpetual grey

blotted and distorted
those happy memories I made
into a dark murky pool
go my sun-shiny days

I know my thoughts might seem cliché..
«the persistant clouds turn my blue sky grey»
but it is the the truth
my truth!
my dismay!

still I find myself begging
for the light to stay
Aug 2015 · 788
Sounds
for as long as I can recall
sounds have been around and a part of me
sounds of the television
sounds of my siblings
of my parents
of music

so much sound around me
that I´ve neglected to listen
to the ones who echo in my head

when they come it´s late at night
when I lay down at the end of the day
they keep me from slumber
with their thundering vengeance
demanding to be heard

for when do I have the time to hear them?
when is it ever silent enough for them to speak to me?
can I really blame my surroundings?
or should I blame myself for not daring to listen?
am I too scared
for what they might say?

for they might confront me
with all my mistakes
and all of my wrongdoings
with wasted potentials
and uncertain futures

even more frightening;
whom is it that speaks?
is it God?
is it the Devil?
is it me?

— The End —