I WOULD LIKE TO WRITE OF ANGELS AND GOD BUT IF ONLY I KNEW THEM.
YOU SEE, IM NOT A VERY ADAMANT BELIEVER, NOR HAVE I EVER BEEN.
WHO IS THIS  BIG MAN IN THE SKY DRESSED IN WHITE SUPPOSED TO BE ANYWAYS? AND WHY DOES HE HAVE COMMAND OF ALL THESE MAGICAL WINGED SERVANTS ANYWAYS??

Another day, another moment passed,
It feels like time has taken away the connection between me and everyone else,
I feel what it’s like to be disconnected from those closest to you and distance from those I never once doubted to be next to me for the worst of times.
I have no one to call when trouble starts,
I lost the closest people to me, due to my pride and self worth,
Giving up those who were deemed trustworthy because I actually thought, contemplated and realized that loving myself is all that’s worth.
Told myself never again,
Reaching out to the voices in my head,
Everything is just scrambled now,
Situations and certain things can grow to ruins in a matter of a couple seconds.
Time has effortlessly proved to me the true colors that reside underneath the personalities of people, associates,
Even family members, those never underestimated can still indicate actions of opposition,
I was shown that at a young age and even now; a connection, yet a reflection.

I lay back one summer’s afternoon,
and gazed up at the sky,
in a sunny meadow all flower strewn,
and watched the clouds go by.

I pondered life and other things,
a chance to contemplate,
growing old and all it brings,
and one’s impending fate.

What better way to clear your mind,
and keep your woes at bay,
and ponder on the things you find,
and while away the day.

--------------------------------

A near and present
future awaits

Contemplate

A near and present future.

-R.

As the metaphor goes,
people are like books.

Each hold a story with
pages beyond pages of
selective words and
twisting ink.

Within those stories are
tales ten times as much.
Tales that have changed the ending
for the better or worse.

Though it may be selfish and intruding,
I wish to read them all.

The exuberance,
the fall,
the bittersweet,
human lives are much more
interesting and dramatic than
meets the eye.

I deduce from faces of old and young
who both face must face same fate.

I read generations of dreams
in the tiny pupil of an eye.

Millions and trillions
of stories,
yet so little untold.
So little of the ones that would
impact the world with such great force.

Would it be so idealistic
to wish to tell them all?

If given the chance, may I perhaps,
peek into your significant story?

May I perhaps
share it with the world?

It's up to the writer to decide
to have their stories
let out to society's eye
or
buried in the silent voices,
forever lost and untold.

Here I will wait,
writing and scrawling
tales like yours.