Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Nikita Aug 2018
It's not the full moon
its the people
who
turn us into
monsters
Wyatt Apr 2017
What if the things we live for
fall from our point of view?
Can we get up and go out
to get it back before it fades?
How do we live with it,
flashbacks of times now passed
where it didn't go as we planned?
I cant lie, I can't lie
sometimes this is easily tempting,
but I don't wanna gaze out the window
letting the darkness take me in,
reminiscing about the times I failed.
How do we live with it,
flashbacks of times now passed
where it never went like we wanted?

Falter on, stumble forward
nobody ever made it
with a stride in their step.
There's been setbacks and times
where we fought just to outlast,
even underdogs'll find homes too
you just have to keep searching for it.

Past all the voices raging
inside and out of my head,
how can I calm the noise down
just enough to push myself on?
I know you wanna hold me back,
I see you don't believe in me
and somewhere along the way
I believed only in that.
With no respect due to you
I ask what's the point
in settling, in letting you win?
You'll never reap what I sow,
only I can see the outcome.
I've been surrounded
by destructive people,
trying to find solace in myself.
I've been all around the place
trying to get my feet on the ground,
to build something under me.
How do we live with it,
flashbacks of times now passed
where we were on the losing end?

Falter on, stumble forward
nobody ever made it
with a stride in their step.
There's been setbacks and times
where we fought just to outlast,
even underdogs'll find homes too
you just have to keep searching for it.
I'll find it.
I'll find it.
“I will bury you,”
Should only be said
By the Earth below us,
And the Sky above;
“I shall outlast you,”
Should be spoken only
By the birds and the bees,
And perhaps the leaves on the trees,
For all that remains of a man
When he is long-gone
Is the whisper of his memory
Along the cosmic wings of time,
And, of course, the planet
That became his tomb,
Busy growing and changing,
Too vast and ancient
To see his life as greatness,
Yet too resilient
To mourn him.
You can find more of my poetry at caitlincacciatore.wordpress.com
Lauren Leal Mar 2016
Don't let your halo become the noose that chokes you.
When you overcome something don't be blinded by it. Remember the wake you left in the process.

— The End —