You make me want to take up skydiving...

Because I
                  want
                             to
                                      learn
                                                   how
                                                                to
                                                                  f
                                                                   a
                                                                     l
                                                                       l
                                                                        for you

When did
your love for me
become a
*disappearing act?

I let the mountains teach me how to not be moved.

I let the stream teach me to flow undeterred.

I let the embers teach me how to fight the dark,

and I let the wind teach me how to be heard.

Another day.
Another day where I walk these same old halls,
these same stone walls, like it's  all that I've ever known,
where I am forced to live in skin that I've long since outgrown.
I hear the buzzing, the jeering,
the oppressive white noise bouncing off lockers
through the corridors till' they reach my ears and I...
know that I'm stuck here.
Between a rock and a system that thinks itself so big
that it can encompass my entire world,
that holds me tightly in it's curled fist,
that will insist on justice only when it suits them.

I see these people, my supposed peers,
walking these halls just like me,
clawing for some semblance of individuality,
chasing their dreams which will always be just
one more exam away until Graduation Day.
When we're unleashed upon this wide old world
like a nest of bees and it's about here when we realize how...
small we are.
This world has been spinning,
ticking and tocking while I've been on this tightrope walking,
this fine line between success and failure.
I've been given countless examples of what not to be
but I look on some of these examples of people and they're free.
Just like we all, in sense, should be.
Sure, they may have missed the bar
but who says that this is how tall you have to be to ride the wind?
And if it's because they didn't try then maybe they are where they should be.

I've seen the dregs of this society,
the lowest, the junk yard clutter
that this world churns out like processed butter
and it always makes me wonder how they got to where they are,
is it just a coincidence that most ones from the projects makes it too far?
I feel like I'm playing someone else's game,
like I'm being made to dance on strings,
like all these million little things that are supposedly special
about us don't mean **** if you can't cram that into a school bus
and cash them in for a good mark.
And the stark reality is that we're stuck here.
Between a... rock and a harsh set of ideals
where self-esteem is measured in percentages.
This antiquated, dusty arcade cabinet
where a high score is what your life depends on.

So if I seem weary, now you know why.
I'm sure we're all a little tired of being as marionettes
to implied but never uttered threats.
We might not all be able to express this anger.
But some of us do it better than me or anyone else.
What of those that lock themselves in like a security deposit
and hang themselves up like coats in their closet?
We mark these messages written in the blood of innocents
as the acts of desperate teens,
we never truly sit down and ask ourselves what all this means.
We're trapped.
Let us go.

There he stands.
He stands where the crows refuse to land
and the tumbleweed tumble around.
Where green is a foreign concept to the flora
that rises from the ashen ground
and the whole field has the atmosphere of a dead place,
forgotten by time.
He stands like a scarecrow that has outgrown it's post
Where most would fall, he stands tall,
like a lamp post, that provides no light at all.
His expression is aloof, but not in an oblivious way.
As if to say that his stoic-ness portrays a tortured wisdom
that makes his knowledge look more alike
to a ball and chain than a virtue or asset.
His composure is limp as if the glue that bands him together
is weeping away and the heavens push down upon him
with both hands.

His palms are loose, his shoulders are sails that he no longer flies.
His hair hangs loose and grey, framing dead and bloodshot eyes.
His jaw hangs but his lips remain tightly knit,
never to part and split their seams
lest you learn anything at all from him.
He has no jouyous thing to share with you.
No pleasant memories that he would care
to cast upon the wall like the beam of a film reel.
The insights he has to teach the world are ones
that would be massly rejected out of repulsion or denial.
You gain nothing from letting this man, most vile,
teach you about the world or society or anything likewise.
You lose something instead.
You lose the peace of mind that you take for granted
as you go about your daily grind.
You lose your ignorance, but only by using it
as the altar upon which to sacrifice your bliss.
He learned much and he certainly learned this.
He eventually started to learn about the things that matter
and by consequence he learned that in credence with them,
his life was a lie by comparison.
He learned that if we are woven by the spinners of the comos
than we will al be found threadbare.
And so, by lack of care, he pas payed the toll.
Filling the spaces of his mind,
and emptying the contents of his soul.

He is the Hollow Man.
He stands far from us in his distant field
knowing well that such a mind
is a much more dangerous weapon to wield.
If you see him whilst on your way,
at least trust me when I say,
that you do yourself a service by staying
far, far away.

Change.
Less like the turtle that peeks out of it's shell
and more like the orchid blossoming for the first time.
With little rhyme or reason,
the unwatched season will pass you by if you let it.
The fortune unfavoured or the sunset unsavoured,
they will pass well over the horizon
if you refuse to give them your attention.

So it is,
so it will always be
and so we see that every opportunity
that is given to us from the hands
of God... or whatever...
is a lesson that we must learn the first time
lest we have to learn again.
Nine times out of ten, what you want
is not just going to strut up and knock on your front door one day...
but on that one time where the stars align
in your favour and you are given the chance to shine,
you have to make. that. count.
If you can focus every bit of talent you have
and crush it down into the size of the head of a pin,
then that's many times better than spreading it out even.
Men live and die under the eye of criticism
and if you can rally yourself to what you want to do
and what you believe in...
Then you can make it through.
I'm not in the habit of making promises,
but I can assure you that there is not many thing in this life
that you can't overcome if you try your very hardest
and someone who will do their best 100% of the time
is worth their weight in stardust.

There was a time when I would've fenced down a giant,
but at the same time was facing a tyrant
when it came to my own emotions.
It was all false notions that it was too hard or too painful,
when instead of blinking the tears away
and etching a smile on my face,
I kept thinking that there was more to a problem with one solution.
You've got to try.
You've got to deny that there is anything
that can stare you down or tear you down,
you've got to plant your feet to the ground
and sound every alarm.
Because you are not giving up.
Not again.
Not this time.