All it took was one push to cause me to fall...


But all it took was for me to fall for me to know that I could fly.

And it's hard but it seems like the best thing to do.  The past year has been so tough and things has change.  Another man has the prize that she tired to give me every day.  Being too blind to see and appreciate was there but of course we gotta learn the hard way.
And believe me I was too stubborn to realize.

I gotta..

Let her grow and live her life.  No more texting and random snapchat at night.  Changing my routines where I go in my neighborhood so the thoughts of "we" doesn't remind me of what we used to be. To experience life with a person like me.

I gotta let her go

And I never thought it would be so soon.  Maybe things would work out faster than what I expected but it went how I figured and must take it on the chin.  Like a man, respect her wishes and continued on without her.  It ***** but in this situation I gotta let go.

No need to cause a ruckus if she's happy where's she at.  I was that person for her but it was me that held back.

So I'll let her go

For the best and to let her live her life.
I did so much damage, why would she want to come back into my life.  It seems to reasonable and convient to come back this way.  

So I had to let her

Who knows..

Maybe she will come back or stay away.

My perfect pastel way of life
Smudged by emptiness and strife
Tread on, rained on
Nonstop
Just let me
Breathe

This is a questionable poem written because I have a whole bunch of curiosities.
I was sitting in my Arizona home like I do on cold days like today
when it occurred to me that
people today are severely lacking in pure curiosity.
I mean, sure, people are curious about some things;
What will happen if I mix drugs with alcohol? What will happen if I eat this Tide Pod?
I wonder if I'll die if I point this gun at my head and pull the trigger.
Sure, all those things are intriguing thoughts, but,
what about thoughts on pollution and world hunger? I feel like that's more important to wonder about.
Or, perhaps people could be more curious about who they really are.
What do they like? Do they know what they want from life? Why are they so mainstream?
These days I find that so many people are in it for the aesthetic.
That they're not being who they are.
Every person I have met has two faces; they remind me of the infamous Greek theatre masks.
I don't think anybody really know who they are, and I find that curious,
in a sad, peculiar, disappointing way.
It's curiously comical.