Not restricted by it. Only restricted by it’s tame. Bright and vigorous! Tempting to be better than a dying phase. Light prompting the taming call of its energy. Becoming more vibrant. Conclusive to it’s claims. Parting ways without mentioning why dying light is its fate. Being tamed. Tempting to hold dear energy supplies for it’s withering gaze. Prompting to feel (it shouldn’t matter). Am I wanting to become more of a spectacle, or something?! I’m a dying light. Not the uptick in brighter horizons. Just the low dimming effect of a once broader frequency. Detesting the restrictions altogether. Nothing better to accept one’s fate. Rather then battling one thinking that (holding on, is a miracle). No! It’s a natural death sentence. And I’ll gladly pay it! If it means I get to be myself again. Dying light pays respects to its own slurring pause. I seeee…I seeeeeee… IIII…seeeeeeeee!!! I’m causing my own fate. Feeling the tame of its restrictions falling off. Like chains buckled to every brightened photon in the complex. Bright and vigorous! Just like last time. This was different. A struggle thinking (what isn’t a self damaging effect)? But a structure of succession! Never temping my dying phase. Which is smarter then accepting varieties. The slurring pause was no more. Restrictions were no more. I am dying light. And I will shine on other broken lights losing their light in self-deluded stages.
Light isn't equal if thinking it needs to be brightened more, just to fit in. It's not about others, until you accept your brightened ferocity revving in your heart!
This is the sad song Of men and women Who create offspring When they don’t like children. They set their minds up To repeatedly bear them To avoid askance looks And any open criticism.
So they suffer and complain About what a heavy burden It is for them to have to Put up with their children. Each day with the rugrats Nets no child any praise They see not much beauty In the offspring they raise.
If a soul deprived mother Never felt love of her own She has none to spare, No patience to condone. The talk of these parents Is of not having any peace, No time of their own then, No feeling of surcease.
It’s as if a child born Has but few years to grow Before needing to be an adult Who will automatically know. That they must know to parent The sick adult needy one Who doesn’t seem to like them Or anything much they have done.
This is the sad tune of those Who made many awful choices But still have no use for any Of loving, advising voices. It’s a song too many sing; The music heart breaking, Yet few of those parents know The sense of trust they are taking.
I'm so sure you woke up next to your wrong side and said "Nah, I'm gonna win today because you're not my partner in crime today" It's efficient the way I can change perspectives to what I need at the moment It's a chance I need to take in order to make believe I can make it.
No matter the consequences It's about how much I can win today Before the air in my lungs give out And the skip in my feet give in
I hope you know how much I care, because you were always there Your presence is always around It made me believe in the right ideas It made me believe I can do no wrong I know I can be cruel sometimes But I can be a good person When the day comes that I don't try Please remind me with a gentler nudge Gentler than the way my mouth is quick And my hands are heavy Kinder that the daggers in my eyes When I judge every boy who is in love Meeker than a toddler going up to an elder brother Asking him to help fix any precious moment he has left in this stage of his life I can't help but see the light of day in the most bleak moment It's everything I ever wanted It's everything I ever hoped for It's not the light at the end of the battle It's the light every moment continued to become alive for Hope is not a jousting contest Where the truth fights with the facts It's about something that you need cultivated It's about something you need to promise Make that pact with yourself You cannot be wise If you cannot admit to not knowing. Make believe in the truth about yourself That you can be carefree, with responsibility. I love you I hope you never lose the ability to be loving Loving others with the light and strength that you know needs to be worked on Be a light for others Be a light that blind in strength A light that blinds out complacency A light that grows plants And creates life
I would love to meet all of my selves; To dine with, and hold clarifying conversations. I have long been wary of my many personalities, embraced them, and cherished each one of them.
I wish I could individually meet each one of them. To hear them introduce themselves; To hug me and comment on the pleasure of meeting me. To understand them, as seperate persons outside of me. To hear their stories, what groomed who they are; to hear about their days, and talk about their feelings; for them to tell me if I give them enough of me. Do they even like me, or like being a part of me?
They mould who I am; They are who I am. They carry me when I am at my weakest; They are weak with me, cry with me - laugh with me, love with me, and wander with me, at 3:55 am.
Would I enjoy them, and want them to remain a part of my life? Are they individuals with stories, who also need to be heard? Part of being understood is being heard.
We learn new things about ourselves all the time; Maybe, that is how we meet our own selves: In Epiphanies about our identities.