What is this feeling? I feel pain and sadness for a man whom I never really talked to,
a man who ends up back where he started-
Who is always left with the feeling of loneliness and constant regret
I use to see him in the halls, now the only time people see him is behind thick glass-
Does he try to change, or does he want to stay the same-
Only He can answer that
He is put in a cage like a bird, who wants to be free, but has been dependent on the wrong people for a long time
He lets drugs and alcohol control the way he thinks-
Once he is given some freedom-
He ends up back in those cold chains
And put into that cage, once again
Will he break this cruel cycle of fate?
I wrote this one quickly in class
She stood on the edge of the cliff, suspended somewhere in the distance between me and the setting sun. She looked back towards me, waiting patiently at the foot of her elongated shadow.
Her eyes were brimming with tears. Barely visible streaks of salt water already stained her cheeks, but across her lips, a smile. Wide enough to show nearly all her perfectly aligned teeth, her lips taught, almost painfully stretched across her face.
A laugh escaped her throat, something between a laugh and a sob and a cry, cut short as her lungs forced her to gasp, then falling into a spasm of short, shallow breaths.
The words fell like diamonds from her mouth to my ears, scoring my brain with their edges, blinding my inner light with their aura.
I was swept away in the moment, which I thought could never possibly end. But of course it did. And the silence that followed left me shattered and alone.
An escape made in earnest
The quiet upkeep of missing links
An upheaval of something good
To relinquish all sanity
As cracks begin to race across the surface
Dividing the tension across abstract faces
The sound of a jet engine
And the wind that grows ever warmer
The final rays of light
On this endless, waxing summer
In a chemical solution
The faltered melody of past days
Guiding me towards darkness,
My last battle is here.
Holding onto a thin thread
Of all that is dear.
Slowly approaching my home
Where all that remains is me.
Looking out on an endlessly hopeless sea.
Love has failed us all once more
In front of me.
We have to exit
our lives on the whole world stage
so new life can grow
We can't live forever
Septembers remind us
that change, while inevitable
is always beautiful.
That each season of life
brings different weather.
The flowers don't have to
be blooming year round
for our surroundings
to be full of color.
does not have to be
growth to be necessary.
The alarm blares, its seven in the morning exact.
Her mind is bare and her memories can not extract
the happenings of the days that hurriedly passes,
burdens on her back, stranded, sigh; “surely the grass is
greener on the other side... it has to be! As this,
is no way to live, seemingly stuck in the abyss.”
Stiffening day to day regularities; mundane.
Everyday the same - soul crushing, she’s turning insane.
No change. Nothing to remember, a routine ingrained,
by her brain. Life cycle? The cycle through life remained
on the same routes without fail, no twists or turns in sight.
10 pm - night, wishful thinking she holds onto tight,
yearning for the twist of fate her days have greatly lacked.
The alarm blares, its seven in the morning exact.
- tried to keep it around thirteen syllables per line
Why don't we go back from the start?
Where we met near the leaves.
The stage when always being fed with love.
We started to change.
Our love was becoming mature and continued to grow.
Always afraid of being let go.
You spread your wings and started to fly.
All you did was to make me cry.
Our love was full of colors,
But you flew to another flower.
Just like a life span of a butterfly,
It only lasts for two weeks,
so our Love is.
I connected the life cycle of a butterfly into love.
Consumed by the inevitable End
I have chosen to die on the horizon
So no one can grieve for its illusion.
Time will always raise The Sun
Even when there are no eyes to see it,
No instruments to measure it.
It's we who create The End, mould it,
To fit in the frame of our own perspective -
A complete work of art.
So, why does the end never fully satisfy?
Because we know, without knowing, it is a lie
The End is such because someone draws a line
And to that end, we are all doing time,
Condemned by a fact:
That we will die.
Our sense of Time imprisons us
With the understanding that
Our sense of it will end.
And that leaves us here, with a choice:
I choose to die on the horizon,
Free, creating my own beautiful End,
Zebras have their stripes
And lions have their pride,
Bears have their strength but
Cattle wait to die.
Doesn’t anyone see it?
Every slaughter, every ****,
For in that we are united.
Going round and round,
In a world of mindless entertainment.
Jerking the wheel just to make that turn,
Killing fear with thrill.
Lonely days filled with strangers
Moaning in the night,
Nothing underneath the covers,
Only leaving by daylight.
Perhaps it was warranted, but
Questions go unanswered.
Revolting sights and
Turn your stomach upside down.
Underneath it all, the
Vanity only leads to insanity.
When humans breed infection,
X-rays “cure” the problem.
Yet the cattle breed and die.
So many of us are scared,
absolutely terrified beyond words,
of being hurt.
We battle, and counteract this fear
by hurting the only person
who would die before causing pain.
This creates a vicious cycle.
The gentle, soft hearted protector
becomes the stoic, heart of stone,
destroyer of worlds.
We’re playing heartbreak telephone.
Pass it on.
“Fear leads to anger,
anger leads to hate,
hate...leads to suffering.”
- Master Yoda