Sometimes the most beloved person is behind us.
Waiting for us to see those tiny things they do.
They somehow manage to be always there without us realising.
Laughing with us till the last breath.
Supporting us with the most unusual way from the very far.
Telling us what to do with the quiet whispers in the back.
Saying speeches that nobody does.
We don’t even think about how much they mean to us, until it is goodbye.
We miss the things they did, or said.
They become our routine characters with out our permission.
Somehow they are those ones we think about when we are low.
They made the world brighter even with no stars.
Sometimes we need to just look around, maybe they already are there -
Waiting for us to see those tiny things they do.

It feels like Someone flung open a Window
A Window in my Mind
To Release me from the prison of Time
Now I BE.

DLR &
08/07/2024
☀♥ƸӜƷ✿♬

You can't write the word "fight" while fighting someone-using a pen against them while they fought using a pencil! Even if you have a piece of paper in the other hand.

What would happen if someone figured out how to? Well, the pen could never be able to avenge itself unless it somehow found a way to "write" back...


One question, though, before you go: would the pencil's wits be sharpened during the battle?

"Go deep son!"
I run deep for the long one
But there's no one
The ball doesn't come
Now I'm just on the run
A prodigal, no, a wayward unwanted only son
With no distinction of direction between to or from someone
I'd give everything for a destination
I'd give it all for a connection
I'd settle for a distraction
Or even a sliver of affection

©2024

Even Doc Holliday had one friend
I don't even have one someone who'd pretend
Or one that's pretend
Maybe it's my fault, I am noticing a common thread
But what do I even matter, what does it even matter in the end?

©2024