there's no cures,
no hi's, nor bye's..
there's not really much left to say then is there-
so why do i try?
why do i reach for words just out of reach,
why haven't i let it go?
why do i wonder so-
what am i looking for?
i have what i want, i have what i need,
i have the joy i sought so sorely so,
i have my grasp on a future,
no longer so futile..
guilt clouds my mind.
i wish so badly that i could take what you gave,
that i could scatter my seeds amongst the many already strewn,
intertwine my life into the fabric of yours,
and be happy doing it.
but i wasn't happy, i was empty
and your pieces didn't fit quite right,
despite how hard i tried..
because i did try,
oh how i tried.
i just wish i hadn't
poisoned the medicine maker.
we live in a box
with endless walls and tiny windows
lurking in the creeks
of despair and desperation
whilst barrows of bodies
whisked away and turned to
ash that soils the otherwise
spotless home you've made
within the cell...
ular confines of existence
I thought I knew what lonely was until a movement I couldn't take part in came along.
I was used to being on my own, but when surrounded by the voices of people speaking out against the atrocities they've faced at the hands of others I was filled with a need to join them-
Until I realized I couldn't.
For the resulting commotion that would fill my life if I did would not equate the relief I may or may not feel by telling all.
The demons in my life wouldn't be prosecuted by my voice, despite the promises some naive like to make.
To stay silent is to stay protected, even if it is at the cost of one's own sanity.
For I reside in the middle. In the place where things aren't so bad that I need saving nor the place where things are so safe that I can speak without fear. My voice wouldn't cause a worldwide commotion, nor would it cause arms of those dear to me to envelop me in embraces of comfort and support.
It would cause mass pandemonium in my world while changing nothing in the world.
So lonely has been redefined to mean utter panic in the midst of temptation.
Technology makes it so easy to be intimate despite having voids of separation between souls,
Taking tiny screens and filling them with the image of joy,
Talking at it for hours on end,
Burning the night away into bliss,
I can't stop crying
Some people can't even start
I ponder on which is worse while choking back tears
I messed up
Sorely and irreversibly
Stealing moments I can't return
Regretting them near
I ****** up