do you ever miss the rain?

which one?

that one.

yeah i do.

the simple feelings of safety

the smell of the rain

the similarity of home

where you didnt care about technicality

or psychology

when nobody cared about each other but felt home

do you miss the old screen?

you mean the OS?

no the screen

where it was simple but complex

the feeling of the rain mixed

feeling of friends

not that feeling

the other feeling

the similarity of the old layout

not old the better one

yeah the better one

where it seemed as if you knew it for so long

but you didn't

when everyone was innocent

no sketches

playing at home with no pressure

with a head that stops when you stop

the feeling of feeling as if the adults know everything out there

where you felt as if being sad was just a myth

miss the old room?

which one?

the magical one

where your imagination ruled the emptiness

now filled with a head that is technical as it can be

why?

because maturing

looking at the abyss called reality

where everybody is a child

being an adult is just a myth

everybody feels alone, feels selfish, trying to wisen up

they can’t

because you just can't

wise people aren't wise

they aren't adults

they are just children

acting like adults

people want to get on top

why?

because

why?

why not?

everybody looks up to you

everybody obeys to your rules

they aren't forced to or obliged to

they just do

why?

because they are searching for an example of an adult

they search for a person to look up to that no one can look down on you for

but when you are the person on top

you still feel alone

you don't feel complete

you feel like a child

but then you look for another person to look up to

there are no other

so the cycle continues

everybody stomping on each other

we are on top of a flying rock and everyone is focused on looking down upon people with different imaginary views

why?

why not just have fun?

do you ever miss the rain?

which one?

I have so many ideas swirling through my
Head, I never know which ones to write
Down, which ones to commit to memory,
Which ones to care for like my child.
So many of my thoughts I abort, and
For different reasons.  
Maybe this idea will slowly corrupt my mind,
Maybe it will harm someone else.  
Maybe it will be worthless in time,
Maybe it is already too old.
Yet what should I do with these
Thoughts I’ve aborted?
Just because I’ve discarded them,
Doesn’t mean they’re entirely forgotten.
Does a mother ever forget an aborted child?
Does she forget the feeling of the child in her womb,
The raging hormones, the night of conception?
Of course not.
My ideas are the same,
Still there in the back of my mind,
Wanting to be alive,
Breathing, Functioning.
If you had an idea that would stop
World hunger, create world peace,
Find the cure to cancer, or
Stop humans from harming the earth,
Would you **** it?
Then why would you do the same to
A child who could have those ideas?

Nightfall should be a time for sleep, but it isn’t.
My brain is jumped started and the questions begin.
Do I let down my walls?
Do I let him come in?

Is he really different? What’s his goal?
Sure, he says what I want to hear and does what I want to see.
Does he mean any of it?
Or do my senses deceive me?

Maybe it’s real and his intentions are true,
And I’m letting the past play with my mind.
Maybe I’m looking too deep...
Maybe he’s true and kind.

The sun starts to rise.
Somehow the hours has slipped through my fingers...
As I move through my day,
The questions still linger.

What happened to the land of the free?
What ever became of American equality?
When was The Great Take-back begun?
What became of “with malice toward none”?
What happened to rich people’s responsibilities?
When did we decide our peers were enemies?
Why didn’t we learn from the Great Depression?
Why are we letting them set up another session?

Eenie meanie mighty mo, when is it fine to hire a **?
Hickory slicker zippity zopp, when is this b.s. going to stop?

Why have we let ourselves think like adolescents?
Why do we keep liars and cheaters in our presence?
It’s up to us each who what lies we should tolerate,
So when does being a mountebank go out of date?
When do we start fighting and hitting bullies back
When they make it known they’re on the wrong track.
How many times will they have to lie and steal
For the rest of us to know their villainy is real?

Fluster and bluster and flippity flopping, confidence is dropping
We can no longer trust our leaders to protect, so let’s reject.

When did all of our statesman turn into real estate’s men?
When did the human in humanity cease to matter at all?
What makes half the country vote for a scoundrel horde?
What did our country accomplish by dropping the ball?
Why have we become the people we used to dislike so
And now we are the ones who arm and **** each other?
And why do we still have many lifetimes or more to go
To finish paying for murdering and pillaging our brothers?

Questions, suggestions, all are loudly ignored by them,
Our leaders whose sense of decency has grown dim.

As the temple throbs
For each wham of a thought
A push back is made
Leaving you distraught.

As each stitch is cut
And the wound gapes wide
The light in your eyes dims
Your gaze cast aside.

You question yourself:
"How can a heart, once young and ready,
Turn its petals to shades of ash,
And cower when it wants to be happy?"