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The chains have sunken in, like ivy on a wall,
It's almost impossible to seperate him from them,
But that's what I'm determined to do.
I may not have noticed them instantly,
For they blend in so easily,
But once they've been spotted they aren't forgotten,
And I've set my sights on unlocking them.
We may be made with broken pieces,
The odds and ends of better things,
But I will use my broken bits as tools,
To fashion a skeleton key,
That will open all the locks,
Of the chains that bind you,
So that you can be free,
To enjoy your life, with me.
The invisible chains that bind him,
Restriciting him, holding him back,
Why can't I break them from his wrists?
Why can't I unshackel him from the chains?
Try as I may, I can't free him from their grasp...
Is it because he's come to terms with them?
Does he no longer wish to rid them from himself?
Or is he done trying to liberate himself?
Either way, I wont give up this fight,
Until his chains lay defeated at our feet.
It never stops amazing me how much time flies in hindsight,
The future seems so far away, but what's been done is ancient history.
There's just under eight weeks left,
Till the end of my countdown of mystery.
It's so easy to forget how long it's been,
When you're living an endless winter this blistery.
The day is approaching, the new dawn encroaching,
I can't wait to welcome you into my arms...
Silently, with tiny beats,
You let me know you're there,
Amidst the fluids and the fat,
Craddled in an un-ending embrace,
I'm just waiting for the day to come,
When you'll emerge to see the world,
And we can hold you in our arms.
It frustrates me to no end that I never seem to have much to say,
Until my voice has gone away,
And been replaced with a painful, raspy disgrace,
Reminiscent of an old smoker's vocals,
Cough and all, I sound like death,
Like a ******* smoker of some crystal ****,
So here I'll express the aggitation I feel,
At being incapable of communicating.
So, I went to the office and talked to the lady
Behind the desk that's not quite large enough for her.
She told me she'd change my schedule, of course! But-
I would need to substitue the dropped courses with different ones.
So I hmm-ed and I Uhmm-ed and ended up chosing
To help out the librarian and to take a design class.
(The latter was chosen only because I know someone in it,)
I left the office of awkwardness and now here I am,
Writing and waiting, and hoping for graduation
To hurry up and get here.
He calls it his prison,
He's held hostage there a lot,
But recently I've begun to wonder,
If it's truely a prison or not.
When he goes in he's silent,
He's closed off from the world,
But I try to find a way in, a weak spot,
A ***** in the armor, and I fail...
I'm begining to think that it's not
A prison for him so much as a prison for the world...
A way to lock away everything that causes him pain,
A way to run from the darkness of this world,
To hide away in the safety of the silence
Only found in the recesses of ones own mind...
So tell me, is it a prison for him?
Or is it a prison for the rest of us?
Life is so much more than this,
It's not about the failures,
It's not about the mistakes,
It's about the people and memories,
The time you spend with they,
Creating instances that'll last
Longer than a thousand mistakes,
I know I make mistakes,
Everyone makes them though,
So why should we dwell on them?
Why should we linger on our failures,
When we could, instead, focus on our successes?
I don't care if you've ******* up in the past,
I don't care if you've failed at things,
We all have, it's part of how people learn,
It makes us who we are, and as long as we,
Learn something from our failures,
Then I don't think we can really call them,
Failures at all... more like lessons.
Our 'failures' don't define us, they shape who we are.
This human body of mine
Craves the strangest of things at times...
When I'm laying in bed at night, all I can think of
Is how delicious some fresh macaroni would taste,
Or how much I really want a corndog,
Or when I'm sitting in class waiting for lunch,
And I start thinking about fish fillets,
And sandwhiches...With layers and layers of meat and cheese,
Or when I've just finihed eating something,
And a friend mentions what they just ate,
And I begin to want it terribly badly...
Why do I get these cravings at the weirdest of times?
Why can't I stop craving spanish rice,
Or Olive Gardens' breadsticks?
Atleast I got over my extream cravings for fries...
Nope, nevermind.
We all have our quirks,
Our own little weirdnesses,
But it still shocks me when
My Demon of Ice has warmer
Hands than me.
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