Wearing a mask every now and then... everyday I've got a new role to pretend! Running for the expectations I am suppose fulfill.. standing over my own will!! Many a times its terrifying to be someone I am not.. being a people pleaser is much more devastating than I've ever thought. Amidst of this blunder I really don't remember where I lost myself to what I've become... when 'I had MY PEOPLE' to 'I have none'. Wasting my emotions over people who are not worth it, I turned my own self into grit!
here in this space I still have a regret over the path I paved... that led to my own grave!
The moment we realize that the efforts we made in the way... to put together pieces of some other people, broke you even more is really devastating!!... coz at the end out of everyone we have lost we'll miss ourselves the most!
The tread on yer shoes aint there. The tread on yer shoes aint there nowhere. Worn out beyond compare, the whole pair, so you slipped off yer **** and fell down the stairs! Ya hollered and yelled the moment ya fell, but no one came to help! A loud KABOOM, but no one in their rooms could even hear ya yelp! It rained that night ya stepped outside to a nasty tumbling blunder! Cuddled up, cozied up in our beds cause we all just thought it was thunder.
Stomp Stomp Stomp like an old wet mop, you was mad as a hornet's nest! Had to sit through what happened to you, and you made sure of it! Said you was out there just a cryin for help, while everyone just stayed put. You reminded us again of what happened to you, then bent over and showed yer ****.
Not sayin that this matter is a funny disaster. But seein that yer fine, don't mind the laughter!
Better go get new shoes today, or this might happen again. Land on yer **** like that, I say, and you might just break yer chin!
I wonder, do you ever wonder? How far we have come along. With all those fights and in all those thunder. We managed to live so long. You made mistakes and yes I did blunder. Still, we forgave, as we know where we belong. I remember, you remember how we met at first. It wasn't the best nor the worst. We were happy keeping alive the thirst Looking back, I see us in each day submerged.
looking back on how we have survive so much and still together.
My desperation is not discreet. It sprays off my tongue every time we meet. Like the octopus squirts ink to evade capture. Inky I love you's flood from my mouth, a Tsunami of rapture.
Loving you is the ocean and desperation is decompression sickness. Whenever I come up to breathe my head spins, nitrogen bubbles explode in place of butterflies. Isolated on this lonely island, my clouded mind tears me asunder. If I die a living death you would be my beautiful, poetic blunder.
Blue is not sure where to find the propeller. The motor boat sent to scotch the shimmer. The waves break inside a jar, and the little pieces are swept up by the wind and made into mist.
The Jar is shaken, the titanic sinks, and the seagulls peck at our eyes. Covered in barnacles, the new-found fish men wander onto the sand and get coated, as in cornmeal, ready to fry.
Infatuated and floundering they wander to water again. Drinking death hand over fist, they ring themselves out with simply a twist. The fish flap their fins so forcefully; trying to be flying to a sea called the sky.
With a crumbled-ed crust they say, “motherboat or bust”, but the navigation of aviation is a compilation of great frustration for fishes whose function is on boats, wrapped up in those silly greatcoats. Yet they made it, or so they claim, and with only one flounder or flunder who had made a blunder to blame.
If only old skipper had been a bit quicker, he wouldn't have had such a queer story to claim.