Sometimes I look at the old photographs
Pressed between worn out pages
Of times I do not remember,
For the times I keep guarded
I keep no mark of.
So I stare at that little girl
Whose eyes are same as mine
And has seen the same wars as I,
Because the damage was done
When I was a kid.
From then to now
The wars have ceased,
That little girl has seen too much for her age
Than now I ever will.
I wonder when I look at her face,
I fail to connect
That's how I stay away from people.
I wonder if she thought of the future ahead
How her strength then would let her live?
If she knew why she continued to fight ,
If she ever had any hope at all,
Or she thought she couldn't simply die?
Because all I can think now
Is ending it here.
I have hope, I really do
But I look at her decades back
And I don't see the point.
She was so scared, all the time
She had her walls so high
She, the moment she understood
Spent her time wishing to save others.
Her life contained days
That belonged to everyone around,
Her fight thereupon easier.
I guess the problem ensued
When she started to have her own.
I look at her, I look at her
She doesn't look anything like me,
I don't feel anything at all
I want to tell her
That is all she will ever feel,
That pain she thought would go away
Would bury itself in her soul
And she will never feel alive again.
I never really recognize her by her looks
It's always how she makes me feel,
I stare at her
And the sadness has remained,
The fear still lines up
And happiness for some people
Is a momentary event
That simply intensifies the pain.
remember your first bicycle?
i was so happy, so eager to learn,
i remember going through so much pain
falling on my face, picked up by my dad
as i cried and he kissed my feet saying
'there, it's all good now'
but then the bicycle ended up being my life
for a few short years
but then it is too small, and i was too big
i have grown, and it hadn't.
so i said goodbye and put it on the corner of the garage.
bought a brand new one.
i realize now, it's kind of like you and me.
you have grown, back then, and i hadn't.
you've made other friends, and i hadn't.
that's why when i'm not what you wanted,
not what you needed anymore, you left,
little by little.
you replaced me, just like the yellow bicycle
that leans onto the wall, unused and forgotten.
Picking up the pieces
The trail she left behind
Words of endless dreams
Made many broken promises to herself
Always wanted to be here
In this position
Now she is standing tall
Watching the world revolve
She watched the chaos
Watched the feuds
Every silent war
Every battle fought
Beauty turned ugly
Forced to accept, every nightmare
How did you change so much?
The answer is plain simple
She has grown up...
...maybe a little way too fast
Go ahead and drink your hateraid
There is not one fuck to be gave
All the hateful things you thought was said
Was only the voices in your head
You turn every word upside down
As a victim you want to be crowned
But we are the victim of your thoughts
In your mind it all gets tossed
The helping hand that we extend
Gets lost as your minds bends
Everything ment for good into black
Till the bridge is in flames, no going back
As you scream out your sarcasm
It only makes to widen the chasm
Then you cry "I have no friends"
You play the victim to the end
So burn your bridges, blow them up
Just don't come yapping at me like a little pup
Maybe one day you'll act grownup
Before someone makes you drink from your own cup
Amazing I'm still here
Swirling, and spinning, trying not to fall.
Never quite sure who we are trying to find it in our beer
Looking like we are 10 feet tall, but feeling so incredibly small.
Overly aware of time and space
But everyone just sees a space case.
You drink too much
You smoke too much
You cry too much
I try too much
In and out of love at the drop of a dime
Just trying to find someone to love us for real
Maybe someone who means it for real this time.
And can maybe make us forget the hurt we feel.
In the heat of the moment
The best years of our lives
But still suffer from the torment
Of the deep abyss of the unknown into which we dive
Grown up but still our mothers baby
Adults who are still afraid of the dark
Who can only answer every question with maybe
But are told we need to be black and white and stark
Here goes nothing
Being 20 something
My nephew notices nearly everything around
he says saaad cooorn! because the corn outside
has now turned brown.
He knows a few colors that consist of yellow, red,
purple and green.. he likes to read and sometimes he'll sing.
My little nephew is getting too big..
He's at the age just before monsters
are under his bed,
I don't want him to experience that yet.
But someday he just might, and that's okay
we all grow up eventually.
let's leave the country without telling a soul,
let's get a house on the sand with a balcony facing the ocean waves,
let's live off of local fruits and tortillas
let's play a vinyl at night while we dance drunk around the fire,
with our record player and its huge bronze speaker coming out the top,
jumpy prison blues or old movie lines that play with a nostalgic static
let's build a blanket fort with a million sheets
watch our favorite old films off the wall in a psychedelic haze
let's binge on ice cream and oreos and let our inner fat child run free
let's have hot cocaine shower sex
when we come down we pass out with the bottle of riesling between us
it almost empty, except for the small ring that neither of us could finish
let's wear nothing but robes and never have to leave our palace
let's get naked and roll around in paint, creating a heartfelt masterpiece
let's wake up to an amazing cup of coffee that gets better and better
just like our sex
let's never let anyone know about our little escape from the world and our grown-up fairytails come true.
You're merely seventeen, you aren't in love,
you don't even know what love means-
neither do I,
and you may think I’m being ignorant
but I'm really just bitter to the taste and rough at the core.
My blood runs black, but my tears are sapphire.
My eyes are as glaring as the air in March.
Don't tell me my mind is powerless.
My soul is dense.
And though my heart is tattered and covered in scabs,
the wounds are more wise than your attempts of being an adult.
You may slush wine in a glass-
as tipsy as the seesaw on the playground from your childhood,
but you will never be able to see.
You can sing and dance that you're in love because you fucked the first girl that said she loved you,
but you shouldn't be so naive,
because it’s easier to be hurt if you are.
So you can wear your six inch heels
and prance around in your chiffon mini skirt and Chanel handbag,
but you will never be a grownup.