You are a walking symphony.
Feet, eagerly stepping on the strings of my heart to create the most beautiful arpeggio that I've ever heard. Arms, grazing the old red bricks that seem to structure this sad place. You screamed "I love you" and these ragged walls shook as they carried the acoustics of your voice through this concert hall of a heart. I dare you to trust that this place wont collapse. Not with you in it. I refuse.
There have been way too many prior casualties for you to fall victim to the same disasters. I will guide you through. I will love you. Together we will reconstruct what is left and turn the debris into something beautiful.
The bad die young too
there's just no one
to miss them
I sometimes stumble on words,
And I know they hurt
But I sometimes cannot say
what I mean to say,
and the words just get jumbled against my teeth.
Sometimes my thoughts just won't settle for weeks,
And I never know if it's my temporary insanity
or my perpetual restlessness,
That keeps tears streaming down my cheeks.
Even in the most inappropriate of times
I'm seen biting my lip and purging my mind,
And praying to every god in existence,
that my words will
For once, just come out right.
Words are such hurtful creatures
That never fail to reach us
where it really stings,
Deep in the pit of our stomachs
where our nerves sing
And where the words they live,
and fight to be kind.
But let's face it, our words never come out right.
And all I can taste is the regret in my mouth
and the blood on my tongue
And we're both far too young
to feel as if our world is already over when it's only begun.
And we're just beginning to breathe
and walk and arrange our talk,
In ways we simply hope can be beneficial to good communication.
Because what else exists in our day
other than misconstrued words and broken phrases.
I sometimes stumble on words
And they try to be kind,
but sometimes they just aren't quite right.
Kind of similar to my mind, and how it runs in circles
For words that are worthless at the end of the day,
when actions in fact speak louder than hurtful words.
Isn't that what our mother's teach us,
when we're so offended to learn
that light up sneakers
are not what they used to be and suddenly we aren't cool anymore.
Sticks and stones may break our bones,
But words will forever break us.
Ashes to ashes,
Dust to dust,
And the world spins madly on,
As the ticking clock's cogs turn to rust,
A butterfly shall flap its wings,
And fade out of existence as the nightingale sings
A sad song for the marvelous yet meaningless,
Monarch of the midnight sky.
Let its song be a reminder,
Of the ever-ticking timer,
Hurriedly beating away in our chests.
And let the sound of each thump
Tear apart all delusions of splendor,
Laying bare the memory that we are simply human;
Wonderfully, terribly, painfully human.