Let it be luck or fate
You and I became legends
Us against the world

With each battle,
Enemies came to fight
As allies made appearance

Wars are ongoing
But they hinder
From time to time

Young and optimistic,
We were not yet burdened,
With heavier dilemmas

We enjoyed our time
With each passing season,
Our dreams became bigger

We were the same
But different in pace
We became a comparison

No one warned us
That we could defy
One another

After our first few quarrels
We used the word "forever"
Often as we overcame obstacles

Like poison seeping in
Quarrel after quarrel,
"Forever" fell short of itself

There were more stories
Of us and our memories
Than memories being made

Maturity and experience
Changed everything
From our minds to physicalities

Sharp pain resides in my heart
Orignated from comparisons
I hated everything.

You recieved praise
And lost yourself in it
I lost my voice and will.

Mind tricks of my own doing
Distance flourished
As did I.

We were aware of ourselves
But we expected more too
We were no longer on the same page

Something crashed in us
It left marks and bruises
Left us broken and in pieces

Unsure of what was next
Our blades were drawn
Wounded each other with deceit

Haunted with hate,
You became headstrong
I took myself faraway

Time slowed down
The storm calmed
Everything softened

My sun grew confident again
Beaming from above,
Into what was left of me

The shadow casted
Showed me some truth
My mind cleared and spoke

Aren't we peers,
Or the least bit, equal?
When will you learn?

Look at me.
Who do you see,
If not someone found and free?

Words fled quickly
From my tired being
I justified myself for you (again)

You say you understood
But your skull and bones thick
With stubborn and pride.

Spiteful knives sharpened
By shared secrets and confessions
Tell me what part of me do you target

This new nature you claim
Doesn't not suit you well
But maybe the colors are true

It might be time
To take your turn
And make a realization

Patience is my life
All I have is time
But I'm growing

I am not the pity you see
When you look at me
I am beyond that
and so much more

It basically goes like this
at the point of birth onward,
we are all seedlings encapsulated by a thick glass.
when we are all very, very young
our glass orb is our entire world
we have not filled the glass just yet
with out a passion, or roaring spirit.
Many days will be spent stagnant
inside our self absorbed orb looking at the mirror
what you see is dependent on
how far you are willing to look.
Have you ever stopped your youth
to look past yourself
and see the pain others go through?
To see there is more out there than this orb?
sad to say some don't ever see past their own reflection
have you ever really noticed
yourself becoming aware?
As we grow deep and develop
its only natural to fill those void within ourselves
our ambition becomes too big for our little world
a destruction of self,
but a creation of space.
Yes, we can actually reach this potential!
We can break our glass orbs!
and then you can see
this "Whole Big World" has all of us in it.
Together.
Humanity at its finest.
But there are some,
who are so mindless and content
with this space we all share.
For some
they never see past the mirror.
That is why you can meet someone
at any point in their life
whose still too conscious of themselves
and have never cracked the glass of their own little world.

I suppose my words
Might mature with me
But they might stay young
As many of us so badly wish to.

the hands of the clock are spinning
still
12
with broken bars on the playground
skipping stones
when things started to get a little heavy
we paused our breathing for an aftermath of sorts
but never saw it happen
14
the chiming gets louder
the bad kids come out to play
stringing words through fences
hardly a crooked smile
or stare
we're not going anywhere
16
it's daylight
we snooze our dreams because
they might never take flight
we sit on the bleachers
we live vicariously
we tear jealousy from magazine covers
because that's how we live
we step on broken mirrors but they do not hurt
18
these times in twos we're forced to live
the heavy gets heavier
the heart gets harder to breathe
we begin to look for fingers to grab
fingers of grief
kisses through teeth
we make bad decisions that spin
on some nights we kneel
but Sunday morning is not for another 12 hours
we return to wallow
in a certain hollowness still unfilled
the cycle repeats; we're waiting for night to come
around like a boomerang
were these years formative?
or maybe just an excuse for destruction
regrets fizzle
but never make it pass the sheet of ice
20
and a little wiser
just a little
the handlebars come off
once upon a time this was a vision
and now the hurdles are broken
until new ones come along
once upon a time this was a scream in the night
now there are bells
and lights
and buzzing
the chiming gets louder
the albatross is passed
around like a boomerang
an encumbrance
it berates me
we're looking for reasons to swallow
all this guilt and all their shadow
21
I scramble to my feet
to put this banner together brick
by boring brick
it feels all too valorous
to exclaim that I have broken the wheel
in time to come I shall fall back
into clutches
and fingers and teeth
and bad kissing
a half-open grey goose on the mantelpiece
half-opened desires
and some squabbling in my chest
more chandeliers
and more yet to come
as I fizzle into some chasm unbeknown
surely there is more falling to come
but for now
lucidity
the hands of the clock are
still

I've been at this for years, and I still can't keep up with you!
You always win at everything I'm best at, so I guess this is the truth,
There is no way to master anything unless you "break bones" at
Everything you do. In this world, it's either "**** or be killed,"
At least in the competitive world. Well, I'm sure that they've
Displayed maturity at every turn making things this way.
The only way to win is to give up at everyone's stupid immature
Game!

Angels have wings
Well, it depends on your perception
When I first saw you I swear nothing could describe the connection
You looked into my eyes, saw my soul, smiled at me, reached for my heart then offered me resurrection
You asked me why my heart hasn’t been beating in so long
You took a closer look ,saw that it was falling apart and you sung to me a gentle song
And the sound of your voice filled me like air
The touch of your fingers felt like care
My broken heart now pumpin’ racin’ screamin’ cause the last time it lived
it lived in fear,
You tell me Angels have wings
Well, you haven’t met mine
Her kiss is like sunshine
Her soul is like moonshine
Strong, glowing , illuminating

Gazing through the looking glass, and attempting to reminisce, he lets go, relieves, and perceives.Colossi of raindrops subtly fall through sky’s shadows , violently battling the grey in great amounts, failing to come anywhere near the threshold of one’s most sensitive ear. Nature’s children appear to tremble as dark forebodings of a dreary future pervade the air. The danger and annoyances of such rarities is always given priority and significance. He misunderstands it; he believes in its false infinity.

Unable to stabilize, unable to achieve a desired normality. From every pitter, he regrets; from every patter he forgets. Forcefully drudging through the thick swamp of his mind, struggling to understand what and why, diminishing his hopes of any change, any desire. Suddenly, several elements collide against his one-way mirror in his cell and revitalize his consciousness. Looking through the droplet, his face pressed against, his mentality momentarily produces quick successions of thoughts and random impulses of recovering memory.  

Every snowflake understands its place as sui generis; every raindrop understands its place as trite. The beauty of a snowflake with death, the dullness of rain with life. It’s uniformity and strict nature are necessary to sustain life, but somehow it places a bittersweet piece of an unusual feeling inside him. Its unexplainable transparency, disguising itself as invisible, but not untouchable, stimulates a sense of deep nostalgic hopelessness within him. As he discovers the profound pulchritude, and simultaneous incomprehensibility, of the paradoxical elements of natural and artificial state cooperating to achieve more of the same, he realizes more in this moment. The monotonous, repetitive beat of rain seems to harmonize in an odd manner with some contrasting presence.

A new rhythm to this sound, a new color to this sight. A particular emotion of gradually diminishing despair comes about as he observes little rain boots composing a sort of  rhythmic song with the catchy beat of the rain’s clashing, the continuous flow of the tree’s trembling, the back-up percussion of the thunder’s loud suddenness, the sight of lightning's exciting flash, and the cheerful singing from their voices.Upon this feat, he accepts the shadow’s tears; no longer must he endure the pain of the past’s ******* of the future, now he begins to savor the varied colors of newfound harmony.