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Jan 2020 · 139
An "Ode" To Piety
Raul S Jan 2020
I may always find those who think they know what is my duty better than myself
Quite easily, in fact,
For they live just down the hall.
My autocratic governors,
In my life they are enthralled.

They seek to mold me, shape me, watch me grow,
All while conforming to their to their standards.
But they don’t seem to get the gist
That in order for me to become a man,
I must first be a nonconformist.

Yet even as I begin to take form beneath their shadow,
They fail to see what I have become.
They know not not what self harm my hands have brought,
Nor what twisted images my mind hath wrought.
There is no great only misunderstood.

I bleed my heart, my mind, my soul at their feet,
In hopes that which is broken may be rectified.
Although they can see, their pride makes them blind.
Now, disobedience is the thin string by which I cling
To keep with me the sacred integrity of my own mind.
10/26/19

Wrote this one as an English assignment a while back.
Jan 2020 · 80
Her Eyes
Raul S Jan 2020
Her eyes are an ocean
in which I would gladly drown
Jan 2020 · 117
The Gilded Age
Raul S Jan 2020
Sun sets on the Golden State;
Street lamps, they illuminate
The dark recesses of my soul,
The darkest parts which I don’t know,

Breaking through the fragile facade,
Through empty prayers to a faithless god,
Awakening my tired soul,
Awakening my aching bones.

Too often I fantasize
Of a youth romanticized
Because I just want to escape
From a reality that I contrive.

I could never achieve this,
The ignorant sense of bliss.
Instead, I spill my blood upon the page
And cry over the Gilded Age.

I wade through a sea of masks
Of broken hearts and broken glass.
I look down at them and see
Friendly faces staring back at me.

We mourn our loss of innocence
And our collective diffidence.
We’re weighed down by our hearts of stone:
Born from chasing dreams that aren’t our own.

Too often we fantasize
Of a youth romanticized
Because we just want to escape
From a reality that we contrive.

We could never achieve this,
The ignorant sense of bliss.
Instead, We spill our blood upon the page
And cry over the Gilded Age.
11/25/19
Inspired by my friend's late night rant about how much high school *****.
Jan 2020 · 98
I am Sorry
Raul S Jan 2020
I am sorry.
I say it often,
But what does it accomplish?

It heals not the wounds of the past,
Nor does it prevent transgressions in the future.
It saves not the victim from the pain,
Nor does it save the transgressor the guilt.

So why do I say it?

Because I am scared to lose a person I care for.
Because I know I have done wrong by you.
Because I don’t know what else to say.

But what can I say?

I miss the way we held each other early that Friday morning.
It seems so long ago.
I miss the way we swayed in the dark in the kitchen,
Content to be together.
I miss the feeling of your lips on mine.

But what can I do?

I have tried, truly tried, to find some semblance of this again,
But it’s not the same as it was.
And I know you can see that, too.
Too often these trials only lead to more tribulations.

Why do you stay?
What for?

You hurt,
And I can’t help you.
You cry,
And I can’t comfort you.
You deserve the world,
And I can’t give it to you.

I am sorry.
11/8/19
Jan 2020 · 96
Windows To The Soul
Raul S Jan 2020
There lies a sea of green and gold,
Sparkling in the moonlight.
The stars that shine up above
Wish they burned half as bright.

In spite of the enigma before me,
I throw caution to the wind,
Diving straight into the depths
To learn what lies within.

The waves greet me with a warm caress
Gentle, sweet, and kind.
I feel at home in this place unknown.
To its current I resign.

I need not come up for air.
Instead, I let the water fill my lungs.
Now, I am lost deep beneath the waves
Where my heart belongs.
10/28/19

— The End —