In my household of four
we go about,
unable to hide our disdain and
dis-contentedness, the fresh regrets
in the mourning of lost time,
there is always an apparent thankfulness because
we weren't born with too much misfortunes, although
circumstances could have been better,
But who is to define the real terms of better
that are always shifting form
in the courses of our existences,
like how back then
the terms of better were to me a library (world)
full of endless books & stars,
loving parents and a youthful, grinning brother
to always be oblivious to the world's troubles
a free, open soul to travel the world
and discover new places and people,
an existence far better than
what the human spirit yearns for,
going beyond the wish that a paradise awaits
for all good of mankind,
an existence that rather
brings the concept of a better world
to life, right here and
right now in the present.
But of now, all I can seem to wish for
are fresh lemons
to flush out the built up toxins and frustrations
in everybody,
a father to stop filling himself
with hot air and oblivion to what he has
especially towards the person
who has been by his side throughout
the world's rains of misery and truth,
a mother to stop being so angry
in her majestic world of self pity and
hard, unyielding pride towards her morals,
a brother to stop growing big enough
to keep throwing things around,
and a dumb, mindless girl to stop crying
and figure out how to get her life back together.