Overall,
The experience of ordinary and blatant sadness
Was an outlet of disconjoined thoughts.
Some sort of wall put up against a garden of insecurity,
Vaguely jumping at the opportunity of embittered troubles.
Maybe if you can’t see the stars
You’ll finally understand what its like to lose your way,
And utilize the forgiveness that was once embraced.
More or less like the birds that stayed in the bitterness,
And forgot the weight of their bodies.
Nothing can bear it.
You are not an open wound,
And the stale taste you experience
Is not the taste of bad blood.
This is about you walking away
With darkness in your voice.
Realizing that perhaps there was nothing more terrifying
Than the thought of something lurking in the shadows,
And in speculation
There was never anything there.
The simple way your hair falls on your open shoulders
Is a reminder to never be ashamed of how the world treated you.
Remember,
It tries to balance too many uncultured skulls,
And painfully neglects the opened minded
While trying to fix its very own mistakes.
Like a hand I extend mine,
Similar to brainwaves, to feel if it is real.
And every night I sleep
Less and less
Knowing that this knowledge is going to the ungrateful.
Beautiful things don't ask for attention.
But my mind has always been open.