I don’t consider myself a cynic,
But I am not fooled by good intentions,
People lie,
All the time.
Is it purely for self-interest?
Does any good come from their interventions?
Who am I to say?
Each person has their own belief,
On the selfishness,
Of humanity.
I’d like to believe,
That there’s goodness around,
You may have to squint,
But I’m certain it can be found.
Isn’t it a depressing point of view,
To say that everyone is selfish,
And nobody cares about you?
I’m not overly optimistic,
Nor excessively pessimistic,
I don’t believe that I’m a cynic,
I walk the middle line,
Filled with nuance,
And confusion,
All of the time.

It always moves,
Whether we like it to,
Or not.
We can’t control it,
And our influence,
Pales to its might.
Through all our wars,
Where we fought,
And people died.
What never changed,
The somber dance,
Of time.
We take its hand,
And hope we can keep up,
As we falter,
Broken-hearted.
It grinds us into a fragile shell,
Filled with heartache,
Like a snowflake,
An assaulter.
Some are accepting,
Other terrified,
Such as myself,
They try amending,
Their mistakes,
That they made,
In the past.
Can’t change it now.
We keep on moving,
No other choice,
Just keep on keeping on,
Hoping that the madness makes sense,
As we grow,
Because we know,
Time only moves forward,
As it always has.

My biggest critic,
The one who constantly,
Tells me I can’t do anything,
Ironically,
My biggest critic,
Is me.

Out of curiosity,
Does it ever seem to you,
Like you judge yourself,
More than anyone else would ever do?
Or is it just me?

There’s a shadow man,
Hidden in my mind,
I can’t make out his face,
And I wish that he would go away.
He whispers cruel things,
To keep my anxious head turning,
With meaningless observation,
Leading to condemnation,
Against myself.

“What makes you think you deserve to be heard?
What makes your words better than anyone who’s come before?
Do you believe people care about what they read?
You’re just farming for sympathy!”
I can’t ignore his cries or his lies.
Why, does he despise me so?
Isn’t your mind supposed to be your greatest asset,
And your friend,
Not one who prays that you fail,
And wishes your dreams end?

They say,
“Be yourself,”
Without understanding,
The whole weight of what that means.
Acceptance is a hard road,
Especially when it’s your pain and insecurities.
The shadow man takes me to the mirror,
Tells me,
“Look in the mirror and tell me what you see!”
I refuse and look down,
Making eye contact with the ground,
Because the last thing I want to see,
Is the mess staring back at me.
You see,
To truly be yourself,
You have to look your darkness in the eyes,
Admit your flaws,
And that you are who you despise.
Then,
And only then,
Can you ever hope the shadow man to spare you from his game.
Yet, I remain,
Too afraid,
To look in the mirror,
And stare in my eyes,
Realizing the fighting,
And calamity in my mind.

The shadow man shouts,
And belittles.
What else is he to do?
Chastisement,
How his lies sound so real.
When he whispers in my ear.
“You have no gifts,
You’re just a boy,
Who people pity,
That’s how you’ve got this far.
Don’t deny it or try to fight it,
We both know it to be true,
After all,
I am you,
And who knows us better than us?
I’m the demons,
The ones you hide behind your eyes.
You should talk less,
Hide your face,
No one needs to see that.
Close your eyes,
Stop your cries,
And accept that this is fate.
You aren’t sad!
You’re dramatic!
Quit whining!
Grow a spine!
What would people say about you if this was your last day alive…?”

I freeze,
I don’t know what to say.
He laughs.
Why does he laugh at me?
I cover my ears,
And try to think.
I have thoughts in my head,
But at that moment,
They all escape,
Leaving my mind blank.
I have no response,
Forced to endure his taunts.
Little bits of paper,
Pepper and pelt my face,
As a ruler,
Taps methodically on my head.
How much can one realistically take,
Before they break?
The Joker said,
“All it takes is one bad day…”

I lay in my bed at night,
The time,
3:45,
School will be here before you know it,
Another day,
In the legal form of a circus.
To my dismay,
The shadow man,
Shows his face,
Walks over to my bedside,
And whispers in my ear.
“Today’s your favorite day,
Monday,
The beginning of the chaos,
It’s hilarious!
Just a little food for thought,
Two full years remain,
Till your life changes,
Forever,
No going back,
As you watch time pass in front of your eyes.
Disgraceful,
You don’t have a plan,
No devotion to even start!
Where will you end up,
When things begin to fall apart?
You know time’s fading faster,
Yet, you’re standing still,
And it’s all because of your weak will.
You’ll go to school,
And wish you could disappear,
Just keep looking down,
It’s gotten us this far.
And if they talk to you,
Don’t say much,
Keep them all at arm’s length.
Who needs meaningful connections?
That’s for saps!”
I want to deny him,
And tell him that he’s wrong,
But he’s kept me safe this long.
In my bubble,
Floating overhead,
Watching people live their lives,
And have a good time.

How the shadow man loves to remind me,
Of when I should’ve talked more or less,
Smiled and finessed my way,
Through the conversation,
As graceful as a dying horse.
“Why do people talk to you?
Why do they waste their time on you?”
He whispers.

I’d like to say I’m a good person,
But the shadow man,
Would say something else,
And remind me of my former friend,
The one I couldn’t help.

Sometimes it feels like,
I’m just here,
Living to live,
Surviving to survive.
Without a purpose,
Without drive.
Like a fire,
Sometimes passion dies,
And waiting for it to rekindle,
Is agonizing.
Like writing a long story,
And waiting for ideas.

One day,
I’ll look in the mirror,
And tell the shadow man what he wants to hear.
That I’m selfish,
Broken,
Hurt,
And that I take it out on others sometimes.
That I’m tired,
Irritable,
And perhaps more individual than most.
That there are parts of me I hate,
And parts of me I hold dear,
Like that inner child,
That never disappears.
That sweet somber innocence,
Of times long gone,
Snapping me back to reality,
On days when it can get to be too much.
I’ll look at the shadow man,
And stare into his eyes,
And see my own.
There’s no getting rid of him,
We pilot this ship together,
And the only way we’re making it through the flight,
Is if we work together.
I’ll hug him close,
And shake his hand,
Because at the end of the day,
While my mind is my biggest critic,
It’s also my closest friend…

When people ask my favorite color,
I often say red or green,
And while I adore them,
It’s a lie.
Then after the conversation,
I wonder, “Why?”
Why did I lie?
What point did it serve?
I question and question,
And this is what I can confirm.

I’m afraid,
Afraid of being judged.
Afraid of the pointed fingers,
And the laughs.
Afraid of being shunned.
Afraid of the chastisement,
And the thought of being outcast.
Why so many fears,
Stem from something so trivial?
I couldn’t answer,
It makes no sense!
Yet something so small,
Feels so consequential,
Making a mountain,
Out of a molehill.
Seems to be my speciality,
Unfortunately.

Perhaps it’s a lack of self-confidence,
So I’m bound to hide any part of me.
That way if I get insulted,
They aren’t addressing me,
Just whatever I told them,
I control the narrative.
How long can one accept,
Living their lives as someone else?
It would feel more freeing,
To stop the lies,
And tell the truth,
But is it worth the risk?
Is the exposure worth the glamour?
Is it worth…
Being me?

I remember when we all had to wear masks,
I hated it.
Yet when the main force of Covid passed,
I kept it on.
Slightly suffocating,
******* all personality,
‘Til I’m nothing,
More than,
Another face,
People pass,
Perhaps a glance,
If I’m lucky.
It’s not as simple,
As just taking the mask off,
If it was,
Do you think I would’ve kept it on?

Trapped in an overthinking mind,
Thought circling,
Swimming fast through the ocean,
No chance of escaping.
The sharks are hungry,
Ready to fill me,
With doubt,
Concern,
A lack of self-worth,
And the biggie,
Anxiety.
If I try to swim away,
I’ll be eaten alive,
Torn apart,
From the inside out.
So at least for now,
My mind is a prison and I’m never gonna get out…

Last year around my birthday,
I wrote a poem similar to this,
Titled “Am I Good Enough?”
A simple question.
I came to the conclusion that I am,
But if I hide, inside,
Is that really living life?

Some lessons that I’ve learned,
Sometimes it’s best to walk the road alone,
The road less traveled,
The road no one else goes,
But the one which will lead you home.
People aren’t always reliable,
Me included,
It’s guaranteed,
Eventually,
They’ll let you down.
And it will hurt you,
When they do,
But they’re human too.
Who make mistakes,
And have regrets,
Filled with stress,
And aren’t perfection,
Despite what they may say.

I often think,
And dread,
What people think of me,
A broken tragic thought,
Excessively haunting.
I think the consensus is,
I’m a stuck-up, narcissist,
Trapped in my own head.
They wouldn’t be entirely wrong,
But I swear,
That’s not me…
I fear that people think I’m too good for them,
So they don’t even bother to connect,
That feeling spreads, and before you know it,
There’s no one left.
In reality,
I’m not that great,
Subpar, at best,
Scraping by with gifts,
I misuse and don’t understand.

I’m painfully introverted,
My shell is very comfortable,
What’s not to love?
Then the loneliness creeps in,
And while I may be satisfied with myself,
People need connection.
Though I don’t need as much as most,
I still need connection.
Yet, I fear,
There’s few who get me,
For me.

I try not to be a pleaser,
But when you’re desperate,
And given attention,
You’d be a fool not to accept it.
Yet, most don’t have the purest intentions,
And abuse,
And misuse,
The kindness they’re given.

I’m tired of sitting in my tower,
Watching from my balcony as others shine,
Questioning if I could do the same,
If I could be half as bright.
As they say,
Sometimes you have to make a leap of faith.
So I will,
I’ll fall,
Not caring what’s below.
Isn’t it better,
To be yourself,
Rather than die a character?
I’ll land on my feet,
And run to the rest,
To prove that I’m worth,
To be in their presence.

So sayonara, somber sorrows,
Farewell, fleeting fear,
Attack, anticipatory anxiety,
And believe,
Things will be fine.
I hope you see,
That the simplest things to confess,
To the overthinking mind,
Can tear me to pieces,
With nothing left to find.

I’ll be myself,
For all I can be, is me,
And though sometimes I may despise me,
I wouldn’t want to be anyone else.
So…
My name is Reece Allen Ellison,
And my favorite color is…
Pink

The hardest emotion to understand,
So much more than just holding hands,
How mesmerizing when done right,
Not when every night’s a fight.
It can last decades,
Or a matter of minutes,
Of course for those whose love is so short,
I think they don’t understand it.

Love is more than just a feeling,
It’s a promise,
A commitment,
A pact between two lovers,
To try their hardest to make things work.
You don’t just let it go,
When someone else catches your eye,
That just shows,
You weren’t ready for the next stage of your life.
It makes you scummy,
Immature,
At least to me.
And what you felt wasn’t love but what we call,
Infatuation.
You saw a pretty face,
And thought that meant forever,
Till you realized that,
There’s more fish in the river.
You didn’t care about personality,
Or charm,
Just a short-lived burst,
Of so-called “Love,”
Breaking more hearts than one.

Highschool’s the precipice,
Of people who don’t know what they’re doing,
I guess you have to learn somehow,
Or you could just bide your time and wait,
Save the slander and the drama,
And keep yourself from crashing down.
People together one day,
Broken up and bitter the next,
Could you even consider,
That a relationship?
What happened to commitment?
What in the world is going on?
Sometimes it feels,
Like I’m living in a breakup song.
There’s only so much empathy,
One can feel,
For those who do the same thing,
Over and over again,
Expecting something to change.

Some people are purely content,
To remain single,
Their whole lives.
I respect it,
But can’t understand it.
Do they ever feel lonely,
Like they want something more?
Or are they too scared,
To reach for the double-edged sword?
For fear of the cut,
Or the pain that follows,
Little do they know,
You can’t have one without the other.

Some people believe that love is just romantic,
So they misunderstand when people say to love one another,
Platonically exists,
And in some ways,
Blossoms brighter than the rest.
Just having a good friend,
Who’s there when no one else is,
That kind of relationship,
One of dreams…

Hollywood always shows,
Overly romantic couples making out in the hallway,
Overly romantic at least to me.
They say there’s about five different love languages,
I’d say I’m a mixture of a few.
I wouldn’t be one for touch,
Or one for getting excessive gifts.
I’d rather be a help,
And be reminded how much I mean,
With some words of affirmation,
And some quality time,
Sounds like peace to me.

There is one I adore,
There was another,
But the feelings faded,
And the others grew stronger.
However, like I did before,
I’ll bite my tongue,
And not say a word.
Waiting for the feelings,
To subdue.
To cowardly to confess,
How much they mean to me,
Too much overthinking,
About if they feel the same way towards me.
Why does this have to be so hard?
Rejection is a pain that leaves a nasty scar.
Is it worth it to take the risk?
Or better to kick myself later as the feeling friskily,
Leaves me?

I used to think love was overrated,
Especially at my age,
And while I still do,
Upon recent overview,
Of friendships,
And addition of loneliness,
I question,
My previous,
Motives.

I need someone who understands me,
Someone who cares for me,
Even on the days,
Where I don’t see,
What they love,
They stay…
They don’t run away,
Just cause it’s hard,
They stay beside me.
Someone patient,
Someone kind,
Someone willing,
To stand by my side.
Someone to inspire,
A book of their own.

I believe true love is out there,
You just have to be patient enough to keep looking,
Despite no results.
There’s someone out there,
For you…
Probability almost guarantees it,
There are billions of people on this blue planet.
A lot who are lonely,
And looking,
For you…

I’ll never understand,
How some people confuse,
Abuse and misuse,
For love.
The people who take it,
Too nice and too forgiving,
And sometimes have nowhere to go.
The world would be a better place,
If the abusers and misusers,
Were erased…

Despite what I’ve said,
About immaturity and scumminess,
Yes, I understand,
Sometimes it’s just not meant to be.
But when people go around,
And do the same charade again,
Empathy dies,
Replaced with karma,
Who never lies…

There’s a rant from a poet,
Who wants a feeling he doesn’t fully understand.
Yet he longs for it,
Hoping it finds him,
He’s reaching out his hand,
Waiting,
For someone to take it,
And tell him that they love him,
For who he is,
All of it,
The good,
The bad,
And the ugly,
Because the truth is I’m a mess.
That is what true love is,
Unconditional,
And so,
So hard,
To find,
Amidst a pile,
Of broken,
Bitter,
Hearts.

To those who complain about the mundane,
It’s just your paradigm changing your fate.
I hope you realize before it’s too late,
That being miserable isn’t a fun game.

Don’t you understand that the mundane,
Will be most of your existence,
Not every day,
Is filled with endless enjoyment and stimulus.
Some days are just meh,
That’s how the game is played.
It’s such a waste of your breath,
To complain.

“I’m tired!”
So am I.
Of listening to your endless whining,
About how today’s the worst day of your life.
You’ll survive.
I swear,
You’ll be fine.
Your complaining is so degrading,
And depriving me of life.

“I don’t want to be here!”
Neither do I.
I don’t want to listen to you speak one more time.
To hear another ungrateful leave your mind.
Do you not realize how lucky you are to be alive?
Breathe, take it in,
Just don’t make me sit through it again.

“I’m bored!”
That’s good!
You’ll learn that sometimes things aren’t always as interesting,
As you think they should.
Why does the world have to entertain you?
Why can’t you just be satisfied?
Why must you spiel your discontentment?
I’ve found that can lead to resentment…

Don’t you see that the mundane,
Can be beautiful in its own way?
Those days where you have no plans,
Whatever happens happens,
And that’s okay.
The simple days,
Where things don’t feel so complicated,
Or frustrating,
Yet you find a way to keep complaining!

It makes me feel like I’m going crazy!
If you can’t beat them, join them.
But if I did,
I would go against the theme of this poem.
Complaining is such a waste of words,
And time.
Is it worth it,
To waste it,
On that?
I’d say that it isn’t.

Count your blessings.
If you can’t think of anything,
Then you better think harder.
There’s always something,
That anyone can be thankful for.
It’s feels a lot more gratifying,
Than just incessant complaining.
I’ve got my mom and my dad,
The ones who make sure my head’s ******* on just right,
Who keep me in the fight.

Don’t you ever get tired,
Of saying the same old things?
Of complaining,
About what everyone already thinks?
Are you that unoriginal,
Uninspired, and bland,
That you can’t see the beauty,
In your hands?

I hope you get a good night’s sleep,
You’ll need it,
When you find that tomorrow’s just today,
With a different name.
And I know,
You’ll complain again,
To your friends,
And they’ll do the same.
I hope when you’re older,
You’ll see,
That this life is what you make it.
No one said it was easy,
So we have to keep pushing through it.
Your complaining adds nothing,
But fuel to the fire,
If only you could see it,
If you weren’t blinded by your ire.

To those who complain about the mundane,
I know that some days,
May be filled with hate,
Or pain,
But it’s not a good aim,
To wish your life away.

So alive and so in love
Like a single lily in the meadow, there we dance
Our waltz of love putting everyone to shame
We whirl and twirl, until the night fades away
As your coach arrives, I draw for a goodnights kiss
But away you ride, leaving me amiss
I awake to the sound of furious crashes
The ground shakes, It’s those ****** howitzers
The muddy trench comes in to view as my dreams fade
How I long this war to end so you and I can waltz again

A Poem By: Reece Ellison

Demons,
Everyone has them, hidden just behind their eyes,
And if you squint, you’ll find what they try to hide.
As the tears flow,
And their heart begins to open,
You’ll realize.
That part of being human,
Is suffering behind a smile.

Your head can tell you many things,
Not all of it is true,
But you’ll convince yourself,
That there’s nothing you can do.
Your mind can be your greatest friend,
Or your greatest foe,
A pain people can try to relate to,
But it’s one only you’ll truly know.

Pain,
Everybody has it, hidden just behind their eyes,
And if you squint, you’ll find what they try to hide.
As the tears start to flow,
And their heart begins to open,
You’ll realize,
That part of being human,
Is crying yourself to sleep at night.

Sometimes when you open up,
And you try to explain the abstraction of your pain,
People tend to take it,
Laugh at it,
Break it into pieces,
And wonder why you’re hurt.
People can be cruel,
They leech off of each other all the time,
Harm someone for the benefit of themselves,
Never understanding the other side of their actions.

Scars,
Everybody has them, hidden just behind their eyes,
And if you squint, you’ll find what they try to hide.
As the tears start flowing,
And their heart starts opening,
You’ll realize,
That part of being human,
Is masking anguish inside.

I think I have a wound deep down,
I don’t know where it is,
But I know it hurts.
I see things more pessimistically than I did a few years before.
Maybe that’s just cause I’m changing,
If so I wish it would’ve stayed the way it was before.
Sometimes I wonder if my presence changes a thing.
If I were gone, would it matter at all?
For a day, or a week, or a month, does it make a difference at all?
Perhaps that’s a stupid thought to wonder.
I’m no longer fooled when people try to act nice.
I see them for what they are,
A wolf in sheep’s clothing,
Trying to hurt an aching soul to save their own.

Fears,
Everybody has one, hidden just behind their eyes,
And if you squint, you’ll find what they try to hide.
As the tears pool dripping,
And their heart starts breaking,
You’ll realize,
That being human,
Is being afraid of what tomorrow will bring.

This may sound foolish,
And I know it is,
But I’m afraid of change,
Chronically afraid.
May be why I’m so anxious,
Watching things speed by so quick,
Whilst I’m left wondering:
Where did it all go?
I think I’m rather boring,
And nobody knows me better than me.
Introducing the fear of being alone,
Praying it doesn’t end up becoming real.

Demons,
Everyone has them, hidden just behind their eyes,
And if you squint, you’ll find what they try to hide.
And as my tears start flowing,
And my heart begins to open,
I hope you’ll realize,
That part of being human,
Is filled with pain and strife,
And sometimes,
Feels harder than it’s worth.