scared
things seem like
they're going by
too
fast
everything is
a blur
what do i do
next
my mind isn't keeping
up with the rest of
the world
it's


lag   gin   g



still
.
.
.
l  o  a  d  i  n  g


p      r      o      c       e      s      s      i      n     g

sometimes

it
comes to

a

halt.
stops l  o  a  d  i  n  g
and
i'm [stuck]
in one place
while everyone around me
is moving fast paced
i take things
s
l
o
w
i like to
procrastinate
i am not quick to
strike
what if they move on





without me?

this feeling
i feel
i've never felt
why won't it go away
it bothers me day in
and day out
i don't know what to say
your smiling face is enough
to make my whole week
make my knees weak
even if you can't see
if i could only make you blush
that is my goal
because  you make me light up
from my toes to my soul
you and i are quite ridiculous
if you ask me
but i know you like getting reactions out of me
you want to see how i tick
is that what it is?
you'll tease me
cause it makes me smile
play along
when I act like a child
i try and hide how i feel
but seeing you makes it infinitely more real
come december i'll give you the note
and then what?
will words catch in your throat?
will you know what to say?
will you have a clue?
or will i chicken out and miss my chance with you?

everything is a constant battle
i'm fighting as hard as i can
but i'm fighting the wrong people
why am i fighting my own squad
i am a warrior
but i'm wounding myself
my muscles are sore
every inch of my body screaming
pain
just give up
everything is screaming at me
telling me to stop fighting
let them win
but i don't like giving up
i'm a fighter
is winning worth it
what's the real victory?
what do i get if i win?

If I could be a poet
Not just on paper,
But in every moment of life,
I know I'd keep you much happier.

I'd have no ego
To bruise you with,
For a slave of rhythm,
Doesn't sing egotistical hymns,
Like a poet, I'd be giving and kind
Like a poet, my heart would double up
As my mind.

If i could be a poet,
Not just on paper,
I would never be the heart breaker
I am for you,
For who would know better
Separation, agony and pain
Than someone who cries only
through words and smudged ink stains.

I wish I were a poet
I'd be truthful and loyal
Like poets are to their art,
Like a precious manuscript, I'd guard
Your gem of a heart.

Forgive me love, for this handicap of mine,
For being the kind of lover
Whose poetry for you either
Stays bottled up inside,
Or manifests itself
Merely on paper.

Whilst wondering about a small fair town
In November leaves and draped with white gown
A youth of sweet content and happily placed
Dripped and tinted in long lovely lace
No hint of true distaste
Upon her heavenly face
And whilst wondering through the town
A prince came beholding a crown
But richest were not in her interest
She’d rather a big heart of no distress
The prince never gave up coming again with complements sweet.
But flattery had no impact
She’d rather an honest act, true and concrete
Another try; but his last
He offered the girl a castle wide and vast
But again he came to defeat
For the girl preferred a home cozy and neat
So, at last issuing failure the prince returned to his riches
And the girl left alone and contented without wishes
Remember this story, for the girl left happily poor
Pleased with her life of freedom, no more
And so showed she knew life was about what was kind
And not about money, thick and blind