“What do you want people to remember you for?”
That question has been haunting me for a while now.
What *do I want to be remembered for?
I've never really been outgoing,
Or funny,
Or confident.
I've always stayed by myself,
Alone with my thoughts.
I don’t go to parties, or do wild things.
I don’t have a lot of friends,
And it’s hard for me to get close to someone.
I’m not popular.
Not known.
You ask someone in the hall if they’re seen me
And they don’t know who you’re talking about,
Because there’s nothing noticeable about me,
Nothing I’m really good at,
I’m easily forgettable.
Just another face in the crowd.
I guess part of me doesn't care,
Because that part of me knows that
No one else does.
But the other part
Wants to know,
What will I be remembered for?
And will I even be remembered at all?

Cascades of hearts
Entangle these walls
In the early mourning
Their glory calls.

Scarlet red trumpets
That play to the sun.
Singing somber music
Till the mourning is done

They've over grown
My bleeding heart
Destined to die
From the very start

Once surrounded
By forget me knots
But the glory overgrew
And I guess I forgot.

Laid to rest
In a desolate hole
Bleeding heart roots,
My lonely soul

Cascades of hearts
Entangle these walls
In the early mournings
I sing with their calls

Exposure,
plenty of light,
nothing uncovered,
or too much left unknown.
Through the lens, which he can't see but only thoughts and ideas he scatters through his shutter.
The rain can be captured quickly and in large amounts.
The press of a button and the stress is released, a flash of light and lightening coincide
crash
electrify.
Fighting the storm, protecting his truths and love.
He still trudges ahead; heart in hand.
Recording his sight, capturing the beauty.

Making it home, he doesn't think twice, he places his heart back in its chest and moves on downstairs.
Walking tall and soaking wet,
avoids looks or stares that come his way.
Piecing his mind back together, missing pieces lost outside in the horrible weather.
He'll keep on aching and asking himself questions, as slowly as the night air dries his split hairs, he can slowly rethink the choices he's made.

Save your sorry state of somber for someone who would bother to even lift  finger for ya, tread lightly on the egg shells mixed with glass at you walk barefoot on the fragments of the past.
Complicate your mind with your own lack of self control, bury your head deep in your somber little hole,
Your pathetic, weak, with no self believe just rot away somewhere far so your god can't hear you weep,
Sleep silently because your not much good alive, before reality wakes up and takes you inside.

Some nights
there are shadows behind me
Tall and somber
standing *****
and whispering
what I try
so hard
to forget
Only in the dead of night
the silent truths
and forgotten words of the past
come to die
In my arms
and I
weep for them

The rain might go away
But it’ll come back another day
Constant lightning and thunder
My life is a blunder
You tell me I’ll see sunny skies
But I know you like to lie.

Eyes, my eyes
Wavering in the murky water
Move and my doppelganger follows
I stare and I stare back
Although, I know what I can't feel out loud
I stare thrashing in the cold water
Rage filling me and causing unseen waves
The water is still, unmoving
I keep watching
I become stone, dread filling my watery eyes
I watch as my hands cover my face
I blink
I watch and I watch back
Nothing
I smile and I smile back
On the edge of the shore I know
that I am collected
I am peaceful
The water knows who I am and understands
I am unwavering.