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Michael 59m
A red breasted bird
Perched on a wall
Absorbed in its world
Not worried at all.
Unconcerned by the height
And unaware of its weight
it nimbly takes flight
As I ponder life’s fate.
I envy the bird,
That can lift on a breeze,
Tied down by my mind
As a roof to its eaves.
Like the red breasted bird
I too perch on my wall
Absorbed in my world,
But worried I’ll fall.
Lonely Heart

Why does my lonely heart still smile
It’s been up, it’s been down
Haven’t felt this pain in a while
We turned to the bottle
Thought we’d just about
Hit rock bottom
Emotional beats were trodden
Sad old streets forgotten
The leaves didn’t fall this autumn
Instead we braved the dark clouds
And our worst horrors
Still don’t want to face tomorrow
Haunted by the shadows
And the sinking sorrow
They say that better days will come
I’m riding the waves of the pain
Until I’m numb
Just hoping my good grace will be saved
By the grave when my time is done
We battled and prayed
Until the war was won
After all and all the while
Somehow my lonely heart still smiles
I was thinking about the blast
of neon colors in a film
and the New Wave Music
and Marie Antoinete pastels

But in my childhood
it was as if we had other hues,
a small box of crayons at hand,
or that the world was seen through
Kodachrome film.

There were lollipop reds and purple
and dungaree blues, lake and skies,
lemon ice yellows, setting suns
and lush summer green.

In scratched lenses, children seemed to play
as if inspired by the living colors,
imagining that their lives would last forever.
And even as they grow, it immortalizes them.

But, like life, the colors decay
and we gaze at scenes of sepia and moss,
with ochre grass and reds turned brown.
We must attune memory to remember more.

And using suspension of disbelief,
Elders, middle-aged and children gather
Like the neolithic ceremonies meant for gods,
But celebrate, not the stars or stones,
Rather the lives we have lived or have yet to taste.
I found the first two stanzas written on an old paper in my journal and decided to finish it.
Dorian 8h
Every now and then
I imagine another stance
Where i have a chance

I dream about my free self
An ideal alternative
Happy to be talkative

Free to feel every sensation
Free to live, free to love
No one judges from above

I'd achieve the gift of freedom
I'd dye my hair and get a tatoo
No longer would it be a taboo

Then i shift back to reality
Fill my mind with all the norms
While hiding all my thorns

No such thing as an exception
Only one valid version, perfection...
Who rises the sun,
What man drags forth light?
I know not the knight,
Valiant to bring forth the sunrise.
Still, valor to his efforts,
For life is better in the light.
There's been many pretty sunrises recently
the fear
that binds the wall
that hides the truth
is non logical
but rational

divides the self
and keeps me aloof

must be named
but not shamed
to make me whole

it serves a use
that has no use

fear is the function
of the wound
the causation of confusion
and its taken root
No bed is mine,
If I lay not with her.
There is no home for me,
If I cannot hold her, gazing into the sea.
I am citizen to no country,
Unless it is the territory of her lips.
She
I often wonder,
Am I growing far too fast?
I think like a man,
But I, a child, could never be regarded as one,
Even though I seem to constantly be the smartest in the room.
Wait, are we racing to fast through this?
I know the time is ripe,
Though I didn't think I'd lose my childhood tonight.
Yet there is a chance I'm speculating on how to defend,
Something that's already gone,
Because I'm only a child away from you.
Love blooms faster than you could guess
kel 12h
the day I peeked out of the wardrobe
and my friends found me
in the game if hide and seek
back when we screamed and giggled till our tummies hurt

and those weekly painting classes
where I found my joy
back when I appreciated cute animals
more than these somber landscapes

yelling "gimme the ball"
as I hugged my friend to ****** the ball
and attempt to shoot it in the basket
back when we laughed everytime we missed

teasing each other about "crushes"
even though we all know it's not true
back when we're grinning at each other
feeling a bit more smug than usual

and getting overjoyed
just because I got a high score
back when marks don't matter
and I actually liked the teachers

submerging into a world of fantasy
reading books till midnight felt like a sin
back when the scales of a dragon
were just brushing by my fingers

time keeps ticking
and the nostalgia is hitting
why can't I become a kiddo again?
back when I was content.
:)
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