Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Oxygen is precious
and I continue to waste it
contemplating life
and the decisions I make in it
but I can't decide if it's
sadness or anger I'm filled with
I clench my jaw constantly
and I cry in my sleep
don't know what I'm worth
every day I'm reminded I'm weak
decisions decisions, a lack of ambition
or rather the strength to acquire
what I desire and I know
life is truly a lustrous haze

My soul wants to dance
whilst my heart wants to fight
inflicting pain on others
only to lessen my strife
my mind is a complex maze of thought
thinking we were gifted with intelligence
but now I get it, it's a curse to see
understand, realise and go on knowingly
that life is hard and the world is not fair
well I realised it young
so I can admit that I'm scared
the people that comforted me,
stood by my side, seem unaware

I hope people see something in me
because I don't
I see pain filled eyes when I wash my face
I connect with a reflection
that has felt my pain
I doubt everyone else is different
we're all ashamed
the circumstances differ but
the pain is the same
These days seem more and more
Like I'm sitting on the ocean floor
The weight of the salty water
Crushing down on my chest

The negative bouyance
It chains me down
Not allowing me an inch

The sun doesn't reach me
No light to shine
No warmth to glow.

If only I would have given the effort to stay afloat,
resisting the urge to still my self and let the dark overtake me.

If I would have seen then what I now hold dear.
The silent ponder had has lead me to see.
Acknowledgement of your love is what could have saved me
Rebecca Cerrone Oct 2016
You shut down as I speak, and my wasted words fall like sand.
You got me swimming across seas, but I still can't get across to you.
Trying so hard to swim against the tide, but I'm getting tired.
Oceans begin to spill from my eyes and I am drowning in myself,
Sinking into unknown depths with my pain.

-Rebecca Cerrone
I watched her dance across the empty floor for no reason just her own simple pleasures  and to simply show she was alive .
The music loomed heavy and she flowed with it a lover lost in its power.
Often we find solace in moments others dare not to intrude .

I said nothing just stood a viewer to this scene .
A fly to the wall with a ever fading drink.
She made me forget as she seemed to forget all as well.

I thought of the ocean and my times long since past .
The nights I sat by the seawall and viewed the ships like ghosts silent anchored off shore..

Friends whom no longer breathed life and painted my thoughts with stories .
She made me recall how being alone truly felt .

The music faded she was no longer there.

It was the close of a Saturday night  my dreams had long since died .

Maybe we are all fools for trying when the deck is stacked against us.
Letting the time pass and are bodies go.

But then sometimes when in the moment with that music
you just have to allow yourself to flow.

I never could recall her name the dream never allows you the grace of
understanding.
For once I slept well through the night .
A vision of my desires kept me warm.

As the sunrise and reality soon brought me back.
One day I did hope it would  
just allow me to go.
Ransom'sTake01 Sep 2016
I love the pen because the tip never dulls,
so that when I make my point it always finely shows.
The pen can build up a man's identity,
and record all his pain,
take away every ounce drop of his energy,
or replenish it all the same.
Its product is dark but its intent clear,
so that each statement is properly and equally sincere.
Try to erase a pen and the ink will continue to show,
but meaning of words from a pencil is too easy to take back,
it's lead's one usefulness in the firmness it lacks.  
So I go above and beyond the status quo
and above and beyond intelligence still too few people know.
They say the power of the pen is mightier than the sword,
but few can explain why so many turn to violence and refuse an opening of diplomacy and proper expression's door.
Words can heal and words can break,
it is man's best invention and worst mistake.
A tool that causes wills to bend and wills to break.
Few get a skin thick enough to protect from its ache and it's sting,
 but all my life I've witnessed it's misusing.
So who do you think you are to try to talk me off and speak me down, cause especially on ability your portrayal of power turns around.
I think, therefore I am and intelligent, or at least in a path to go deeper, you all are always so quick to be shallow and look meaner.
When will others realize their easy philosophies don't work,
why settle for bitterness when understanding's not something easily shook.
True wisdom is solid, and wise truth is unbreakable,
and everyone who gains it gains skill to be more capable.
And everyone thinks to be a dreamer, but few will think of something to do while they're awake.
And even fewer realize how much their joy is at stake.
We all know for sure we live once so why throw it all away 
and turn down a heart brighter than the light of day.
And out of all these thoughts, know that most aren't new
and you would be foolish to think this is stuff I've just now spewed. This may look a lot but I've only just begun,
and you may not see the light of day that I will be done.
spysgrandson Sep 2016
raindrops dimple the pond
fishes near the surface snap at them
expecting red reward

those in the depths, bellies
barely above the silt, rest easy,
ignoring the folly above

when the heavens grow restless
and pound the pool with hail, the bottom
dwellers remain placid

unperturbed by the sky's fury
or the whipping tails of the once fanciful
who now descend to their depths
Next page