Never one whole
But why not both?
Into "opposing" categories
But you can't have one without the other
happy birthday to me *****
If you paint me dark, like a devil
I hope you see the angel in me.
If you paint me in light, like an angel
I hope you see the devil in me
I hope you paint me as human though,
Because then, you can see both.
And then hopefully you can see
The other colours in me
Wrote this thinking about how people's perspectives on you change literally in the matter of a single instance. How your name can be slandered after a single mistake kinda thing. Thought it be interesting to write something about it :o
In a world full of people whom claim to be something I have encountered quite a few nothings.
The nothings who feel the need to flaunt accomplishments in the other somethings faces.
The nothings who brag on and on about how they are the most important something.
I've also met a few somethings.
The ones who hide behind their creativity and silence.
The somethings who can't speak in crowds.
And funny thing is all the nothings who identify as something bring all the somethings identifies as nothings down.
They are the ones who make the somethings think they are nothing.
Than nothing and something
The synapses have been coagulating
The neurons movements inhibiting
An intemperate sword strikes
Not once, nor twice
But strikes ever so endlessly
Not merely metal but freezing ice
Filled with conflicting atoms
Each atom appearing small and identical
And yet so volatile
Once the other is brought to the other's presence...
The heart sits in it's seat
At the centre
Watching and yet
Suffering the pain
Begging for balance
Also understanding each
Being struck repeatedly
Without a sound...
Two atoms meet.
Opposing each other,
To occupy the space,
They must defeat,
In order to hold victory
And overlay deceit.
And in their wake
They left behind destruction.
Just as wars leave destruction,
So do conflicting perceptions...
burn through defenses, desperate
scream of resistance emits, breaths
impossible to hold, tongue wild
muscles locked, shouts of
frustration ears bleeding elbows
bent, attempts to solace the
loose-cannon brain, diatribe
retaliation stubborn toes snarling
mouth, suffocating the flame—
moving on, moving on, gaze
toward the horizon, jump forward
lie down and feel the weight of that
heavy heartbeat, never letting the shoulders
I am a flower, while you are a garden.
I am a cloud, while you are the sky.
I hold you closer as you run away,
As I am hello, and you are goodbye.
Sitting next to a stranger, I wonder what kind of life she goes home to.
A mother who is kind and gentle and reassuring,
Who teaches her to be her own person rather than those surrounding her.
A father with dark skin from the sun,
Dedicated to his garden and enthused to teach her about it,
And also to teach her about life and change and fairness.
A mother who was adventurous and spontaneous and wondrous,
Who taught her that not everyone is guaranteed
Enough time to live out their dreams.
A father with eyes as blue as her own, but with less joy,
Fortunate enough to be where he is,
But wishing that life hadn't torn him from his other half.
With no money in your pockets,
and a desire for a smooth ride.
Yeah, **** it... something simple.
Lust for something easy.
You speak like
I complain in
Bleeding, and everyone would care
if you'd just ******* show them.
Overdriven in lifestyle,
by design without purpose.
Wearing black, but not poignantly.
Cursing because ****,
it feels so good.
Smashing whatever since
you don't own anything.
Dissenting because you can.
Maybe you'll steal **** tomorrow,
maybe you'll tell a lie.
Cough, choke, turn indigo.
You're gonna do just fine.
— The End —