Oh, at times I don't really care about whether I live or die,
I've been through so much already it would make one cry.
If anyone would ever come to know the details of my life
the long and recent past are full of misery and much strife.

Sure, I've been through, like most others, the highs and lows
that everybody is familiar with and all one's life just shows,
but there are certain aspects that have been very dark or gray
which may never come to be known or see the light of day.

It may seem that by saying this I'm after your sympathy or praise
but spare a moment to think what issues our memories can raise.
And in particular all those things that now do bind us to the past
from which we try to free ourselves of and our present day is cast.

Don't they make you wish that they could've been done differently
and if given the chance to change some of them that are apparently
now causing you to stall in certain areas of your life that you know
not allowing you to move forward or into your full potential grow?
__________

Proposing to post a poem.
One that is my proudest
One written so peacefully

I found this instead.

Finding it more and more often
Posting a lyric instead
That doesn't match the song playing
In the core

Of me, I feel it.
Heart beating, heart breaking
Heart singing
Heart wasting

Wasting away in a scorned past
One that is not relevant
That did not last
To the poems seeking to be shared

Move. Or I will
Out of the way
Your emotions are far overplayed
They've been listened to
And addressed
I've been raw
I've been patient
Displayed my best

I've learned from the experience
Though now it's time to rest

Reside to your slumber,
Find a new host you call home
The house is empty
And I'm not alone

I will move,
It's my decision.
My actions
My light
Without attachment
Without possession

Without scornfully burnt tires
Without redemption
Without needing approval

Make way for light.
Move, or I will

Because I'm too focused
On what's under each rock

These mountains don't move
We navigate around them
Over them
Through them

Move or I will
So it looks like, it will be me.

I've addressed this mountain from every angle
And I'm still not making it home
Time passes
Fog clears
Seasons progress
And change
And it's still the same mountain


I'm ready for the beach

Like a ship -
at the bottom of the sea.
A scene of forgotten debris;
Crushed.
Cursed.
Submersed
by the pressure
of the cerulean expanse,
without a chance
against the piercing
blades of the sun,
undone and washed up
by the water of the sea,
- are the memories of you and me.