Is it hatred and resentment?
Maybe it is, maybe it's not.
Confusion and chaos in my mind,
Maybe it's not as I thought.
Searching through the pile of dirt
Expecting to find a silver lining,
Hanging on by a thin thread,
Hoping to finally see the sun shining.
With every fall, I stand again
And finally I've now let go.
I just thought you should know.

Hard blowing all night
none too sure which way-
to blow hardest.
The winds of the compass
battle it out-
marvellous entertainment !

Growing old
it is inevitable.
Our skin gets wrinkled
bodies become weak and weary
teeth shatters.
Hands will be shaky
eyes goes blurry
walking will be hard.

The only good about getting old is
if you and me will be together.

I will not care how your skin will look like.
I will help you get up, sit with me, sleep with me.
We will smile and laugh at each others shattered teeth.
I will hold your shaky hands and we will shake together.
I will tell you what i see with my blurry eyes.
I know and i will always remember how your face looks like.
And if we can't even walk lets sit and watch the radiant sunset
go down.
Our love will always be young.

Nothing
surpasses
staying up
until
five a.m
with an
opportunity
to be a
good
friend.

I can unravel my secrets
flaunt my inner mystery
still my racing heart
and just let it all be.

I can grow out of my sorrow
shed the old skin of my former self.
taken in my burning rage
and let myself be happy.

I could sow joy and peace,
reflect back only good intentions.
Live life full and without worry.
and be whole.

I could go as far as I wish.
Travel and never be missed.
Happily blending in with the crowd
and be utterly lost in the world's sea
      I can and could be good or bad.
     Do right and wrong.  
     Lose my way
     and then move on.
But,
C'est la vie.

i am not the smudges dragged across my paper from the pen when my hands wouldn't stop shaking.
i am not the ***** scuffs on my shoes that were once spotless.
i am not the shriveled leaf that used to be thriving on a tree.
i am not the dust that calmly settled into the corner of the floorboards.
i can convince myself of all of the things that i am not
but struggle to believe what i am.

i am the emotion behind the words i write to escape from reality.
i am the long walks i take when i feel so **** alone.
i am the leaves i plucked off of the bushes when i needed something to tear apart in my hands.
i am a creature constructed of particles bound together, but slowly coming apart at the seams.

but i think the reason i have trouble coming to terms with what i am
is because all i am is really everything i am not.
                                                            ­                               -h.m.r.