"circumstances" poems
After getting so close to you and also getting to close to loosing you forever, I decided to redefine importance. While I was redefining importance, I got to understand how far friendship can stretch. After that, I came to a conclusion that friendship is a lot more greater than love.
Below I'm going to give some emphasis which I hope will make you understand.
LOVE
Greedy: You get so absorbed in the moments you share with this person, you never want anyone else to share them, cause you're afraid his or her attention would be taken away from you.
FRIENDSHIP
Sharing: You understand that one of the basic principle in life is sharing, so even if you have breath taking moments, you allow others experience it as well cause you're sure friendship is enough to go round.
LOVE
Has a limit: When people are in "In Love", if it's not meant to be, it eventually ends and this people turn from lovers to strangers. Then start referring to each other with past tense.
FRIENDSHIP
Knows no limit: When you are friends with a person, in all honesty there's no such thing as the end. Even if circumstances takes you far away, you see no point in becoming strangers. You just kick start where you left off, and in no time catching up is done. No heart breaks. No past tense.
LOVE
Heartbreak: Because we only want our partners to ourself, or cause we feel like we've attained a certain point in love, then we have the right to be in the know of every situation going on in the other persons mind. Hence the heart break when a mistake is made.
FRIENDSHIP
Forgiveness: Because we don't wanna lose what we have, and we understand that we are human who have strengths and weaknesses, when a friend offends, we forgive, we don't see it as the end of the road cause in friendship, we understand forgiveness is a basic principle.
LOVE
No boundaries: Love makes us think we are on soul, you are me, I am you, there should be nothing between us and these prompts us to be all up in each other's faces, never having alone times, never doing what we enjoy even if our partners don't like it.
Love doesn't give room for secret hide outs. There's always crossing the boundary.
FRIENDSHIP
Boundaries: Friendship understands that we have our individual differences. Friendship knows when you to give you time to sulk, cause you need to heal. Friendship knows how to allow you enjoy your stupid snack even if the other friend doesn't like it. Friendship doesn't make you feel bad for having an opinion, instead it makes fun of it and you all laugh. Friendship understands signs and friendship will always come back for you even if you have a big head.
LOVE
Jealous: Love gets jealous and causes heart break.
FRIENDSHIP
Doesn't give a **** Friendship enjoys the moment with you and no one sees the point to be jealous.
Friendship is not common, but love is everywhere. When you find a friend, keep him or her cause if it slips off your hands, you might never get it back.
Love can be amazing if you have the attributes of a good friend.
You hardly find a two in one package. If you do, **** You're lucky. If you don't, always remember
FRIENDSHIP CAN BE SHARED
Nov 17, 2017
Nov 17, 2017 at 4:03 PM UTC
Great tragedy suffered,
Impossible circumstances conquered,
The warrior walks upon the field flanked path.
The wanderer's armor tells a tale,
Battle scarred and partially rent asunder,
A face of stoicism that hides the haggardness underneath,
Peeking out beneath the mask of a hardened soldier.
The clouds clap ahead, preceded by flashes of light brightly illuminating the world,
Accompanied shortly after by the rainfall.
A trickle becomes a downpour,
The battered individual trudging along as the road becomes a bog of mud and slop,
The message firmly planted within their mind.
Coming upon the dark outline of the castle ahead the warrior picks up pace,
Reflecting upon what would happen to those that the Warrior helped.
The pace is now fueled by a different kind of urgency.
The rain is cold upon the face's of those that it falls on,
The torn edges of metal digging in at places,
Some already wounded and tender,
As the final hilltop between them is crested.
The gates are closed,
And this loyal soldier is for the moment shut out,
A fist is raised,
The declaration of allegiance given,
An angry detailing of the warriors achievements and adventures shouted,
And a challenge of one's path,
Building in anger and fury as the dam finally breaks and gushes forth,
Threatening to shatter the gate and doors to splinters and twisted metal.
A long ago promised gift to be rewarded,
For all the things endured,
Things that could be considered so cruel,
The storm picks up in force until it's akin to that of a hurricane,
As if brought forth by the warrior's grief and pain finally being released,
For the first and only time.
These things ringing out despite the storms roaring wind,
Gathering force,
Perhaps in affirmation of the warrior's words.
After a pause the gate begins to lift,
It's metal screeching,
The doors groaning as they begin to swing outward, and the battered soldier is bathed in light,
Taking the weight from the warrior's shoulders,
As the threshold is finally crossed.
May 12, 2018
May 12, 2018 at 9:22 PM UTC
Now you have to understand
that the greatest gift a child can receive is a sibling.
Wrapped up in that hospital delivery is limitless potential.
They can be your partner in crime,
or the key witness in your conviction.
A sibling fights the same battles you do just with different tactics.
Some prefer to pit mom against dad others dad against mom.
No one will ever walk the earth as close to you.
Part of the DNA that makes you unique flows in their veins.
Even if circumstances change that bond can’t be broken.
They will annoy you, steal from you, drive you crazy,
and if you’re lucky enough hate you. And yet they are your best friend,
confidant, and the person who if you’re unfortunate enough will go to hell
and back as fast for you as you would do for them.
So to all the siblings out there.
May you be playmates in adversity and friendly rivals in joy
Apr 10, 2015
Apr 10, 2015 at 10:35 PM UTC
The joyful heart is the buoyant heart—
empowered to rise above its circumstances,
unweighted, unburdened, unbound,
tied only to that which would lift it higher,
untethered from anything which would
pull it down, pull it under or suffocate it.
It's the free heart, quiet and at rest
yet jubilant and uncontained,
the celebrating heart, the praising heart,
the thankful heart, the heart set on pilgrimage,
bent on adventure, journey and romance.
All the while it's a waiting heart
because it's a yielded, led heart—
a heart which doesn't run ahead of the LORD
but willingly, quickly to the LORD—
a heart that though eagerly anticipating each
twisting turn, next horizon and changing path
keeps its eyes fixed not on the scenery
but forever on the Shepherd
because it's a heart persuaded
that He alone is the Great Reward
for which it has always been looking.
True joy is only ours when we find an endless
source of satisfaction, and of these I know only One!
The secret to all joy is to crave Him above all else.
The joyful heart is the one addicted fully to Him,
desperate for Him to the expense of all else,
willing to sacrifice everything to have that craving satisfied.
Joy and idols, I have learned,
do not easily reside together in the same heart.
So if I find that joy is chased away
the most likely culprits are my own desires.
What am I wanting more than Jesus?
For if intimacy with Him is the supreme goal of my life
then nothing can arise which I'm not enabled to bear with joy.
There is, I suppose, nothing so reliable as suffering and loss
to expose all of the hidden idols within me.
It's surely those who have suffered the greatest
and most frequent losses for Christ who are also
most capable of knowing the deepest and most abiding joy.
For it's when we've been stripped bare of everything else
that we begin to know for certain that our joy is based
not on the temporary blessings of our circumstances
but only on the presence of the Eternal Blesser Himself.
Sometimes He offers to us all that is in His right hand,
but for any with eyes truly opened to see
the most precious of times may be those
when He offers to us only the intimacy of His right hand.
Rivers of sadness can open up
into wide gulfs of endless delight and
are often the very courses needed to carry us there.
When all is lost, we find to our amazement
that, even so, we still have ALL
and no one can rob us of it.
When He takes everything from us
He proves Himself to be EVERYTHING to us.
Jul 26, 2017
Jul 26, 2017 at 4:11 PM UTC
#*Lord Jesus, Plower of my heart,
though the darkness descends around me
and heavy moods fall over me,
though the warm feelings of intimacy begin to fade
and encroaching melancholy threatens to set in
like a cold reversal of the winds,
still I will rejoice in Your presence with me,
for You are causing me to press beyond—
beyond the delightful sense of You
and into the delightful assurance of You.
If I know nothing else, I know that You are here,
You are faithful and You love me.
So I will keep clinging to that
when everything else seems to slip
like dust through my fingers
and all hope of good things
in this life grows dim.
I will cling to the promise
that You are clinging to me,
that You’ve got me no matter what,
that You are never leaving or letting go.
For You are the unchanging I AM
in my ever-changing circumstances,
through my ever-shifting emotions,
over my ever-shaking life
and around my ever-feeble heart.
Here is my hand, Lord Jesus.
I put it safely in Yours and trust You
to lead me through this dark night.
Work Your holy, harrowing fingers
deep into the soil of my heart
until every idol is uprooted,
every stone removed
and every broken place restored.
Thank You, Jesus.
I love You.*#
Aug 1, 2017
Aug 1, 2017 at 5:16 PM UTC
In all my paralyzing confusion, only one thing is needed; in all my anxiety over my much less than ideal circumstances, only one thing is needed; in all my this-is-so-unfair discouragement, only one thing is needed; in my pressing-down-like-a-boulder-on-my-chest grief, only one thing is needed; in my feels-like-my-insides-are-being-scraped-out sorrow, only one thing is needed; in my falling-apart-at-every-seam life, only one thing is needed; in my can’t-seem-to-muster-the-will-to-get-out-of-bed depression, only one thing is needed; in my sure-I’m-finally-going-crazy state of mind, only one thing is needed; in my so-mad-I’ve-got-to-throw-and-break-something anger, only one thing is needed. In the scorning and tormenting face of rejection or betrayal or failure or devastating news or disfiguring disease or the worst fears of my heart coming to pass, only one thing is needed—to come and sit at Jesus’ feet and listen to what He is saying.
To entrust myself to Him, to acknowledge His presence with me, to submit myself to His perfect authority over me, to just look at Him and recognize His all-surpassing worth, to feast on Him, to wait for Him to speak and know that He longs to do so more than I long to hear it, to meditate on His Word and speak it back to Him both in praise and request and to ask Him exactly what it means for me right now, to be ready to respond to Him in obedience and follow him wherever or however He leads, to be willing to tune out every competing voice no matter how well-intentioned and to say “No!” to whatever He has not called me to, to believe that He cares deeply and passionately for me both in His emotion toward me and in His personal tending of me, to see that the details of my life matter even more to Him than they do to me and that He holds every one of them in His hands and is perfectly directing them for intimacy and glory, to refuse to be drawn away or worried or upset by the many preparations and distractions all around me by casting every burden down before Him and taking up His all-sufficient grace for every need, and above all to want Him more than anything and to let everything else fit into that all-pervasive desire—this is the ONE THING that is needed both now and throughout every season of my life, and if I will choose it, it will not be taken from me. It is the one thing worth fighting to the death for and will, no doubt, require just such a dying again and again and again...
Jul 24, 2017
Jul 24, 2017 at 7:27 PM UTC
i wish we'd met under different circumstances,
in a beautiful parallel universe.
where the dull blue skies we dwell under now were light,
and the hatred we respire no longer spewed from our mouths.
i want the air to be cleared and our brains
fogged from the heartless reality we maintain.
i want our imperfect utopia to be untouchable,
a place of perfect imperfection,
where i can love you with all my heart.
Jun 29, 2010
Jun 29, 2010 at 9:05 PM UTC
i’ve never had feelings for anyone who could be good for me. i’ve never been interested in someone where a good, healthy relationship could’ve resulted, and maybe that’s why i’m so jaded, because everyone i’ve ever liked has just been a distraction or a house on fire— someone i know i shouldn’t be involved with, but i’ll give myself just a few more days to run around frantically with my hands over my eyes, peaking through the cracks between my fingers, searching for things i know i don’t really need, and then i’ll dash out and run down the driveway and the smog will linger for a little while, and the neighbors will complain, and i’ll sit on the curb with my forehead on my knees, holding nothing but intangible regret. next, i’ll either get over it, or obsessively think about him and the ashes smudged on the inside of my eyelids for longer than my sanity. i’ve never really liked someone and been able to daydream about the real possibility of us turning into something greater; of tire swings and painted mailboxes and overgrown, green lawns. it’s always been pretending and fake hope and melodramatic doom. i think it’s messed up my perception of having feelings for someone, because i can never take it seriously— either i know he’s not right for me, or i know the circumstances prohibit the possibility of us. it makes me never want to give anyone a chance (i can’t even see anyone worth chance-giving) because i know how it ends. i don’t like having this closed off heart so early on; i’m too young to be this bitter.
Oct 22, 2014
Oct 22, 2014 at 10:10 PM UTC
The future: Insecurities.
Like a black chasm,
(swallowing your absentees).
Uncertainties, promiscuity,
bewildering circumstances,
you try to find present serenity.
You never knew smoldering
could happen underwater,
until you see that later,
always under the
weather.
Lost for words — train of thoughts,
lost for sure, the battles fought.
these insecurities eating me,
(who would have known?):
because I never let,
it to be really, shown.
Feb 27, 2013
Feb 27, 2013 at 2:26 AM UTC
People always tell me that the tiredness will go away with a lot of sleep and the right date
Eight hour nights have become imaginary bliss when my eyelids are clouded by your image
I told myself that I wouldn't date because you put your hands up my shirt in a bathroom one afternoon
That didn't let me sleep
Who is to say a boy would allow that type of peace
The closest I've come to sleep was when you tried to teach me to dance
I couldn't help but laugh when you taught me to turn during a waltz
Dancing is never a dying girl's forte
This tiredness has yet to go away and I'm running out of options
Old methods of waking are failing me in a way you never have
Tiredness comes from my lack of loving you the way I want to
Your hand on my leg would always bring a nice about of rest
Sitting outside for lunch is easier for you when the circumstances call for ignoring it all
AND ACCORDING TO THEM, YOU ARE NOT ALLOWED TO TOUCH ME ANYMORE SO WE HAVE TO HIDE IT AWAY AND THIS IS STARTING TO FEEL LIKE I'M JUST A PASSING PHASE AND I WANT TO BE MORE THAN JUST A NOTCH IN YOUR BEST POST BECAUSE YOU ARE MUCH MORE THAN A LINE IN A SONG AND THAT'S SAYING A LOT FOR A WRITER LIKE ME.
Apologizing is becoming a strong suit of mine
"Sorry"s keep spilling from my mouth because I want you
I'm sorry I let the tiredness eat me away a year ago
I'm sorry I want it to consume me now
I'm sorry for loving you the way I do
I'm sorry for being so tired.
But, darling.
I'm.
Just.
Tired.
Feb 5, 2014
Feb 5, 2014 at 9:40 PM UTC
The lower back arches
Muscles tangle in with the spine
And intertwining curvature sneaks between vertebras
Creating a vineyard of sweet spirits
That I could drink from the palms of your hands
As though the gentle and rough intentions
Had forever been engraved in a fate
That the universe hadn’t even planned for it
Otherwise the circumstances wouldn’t have been
And so foolish, I looked onward to the lit pavement
Walking between the crowd in hopes that
The grasping of my soul would stop from being tortured
In ways so tender that I wish I could expand in to the millions of atoms I am
Your skin felt like a warm liquid
That washed over your bones structure
Your eyes, those brown eyes
That looked at me with a shine that
I wasn’t sure if everyone else could see
And the light freckles and tinges of skin tone
Pixelated the platform of your body
And I, could look at you forever
Without even thinking twice about tomorrow
Jan 9, 2015
Jan 9, 2015 at 12:01 PM UTC
I was never looking into you
I was only pouring an image of myself onto your canvas
Of course I didn’t know
it was me looking into me
this was the mirage of my desire
always in the shape of a question mark
and you
a sweeping mystery
oozing something toeing the peculiar line between *** and titanium (cold, edgy, sharp - trembling
between pain and principle
like blazer and tie
or more like halfway-unbuttoned-shirt-and-slacks on-with-no-tie
(it was like you were making an effort!))
It was ***
but it also wasn’t ***
(I am empty
I am full)
I keep building up and up and up
all these images in my Mind
(which never shuts up)
(a never-ending narrative
She spins and spins and succumbs
only in those rare and passing circumstances)
constructing people like buildings
only the scaffolding is imaginary and when
the architecture folds in on itself
soulless
and my beloved figurines come toppling down on me
why do I still get so surprised
so stung
so lonely in that
hollow and distant way
(like your Mind is echoing
in on
Itself)?
My Mind is like quicksand
devouring streams of memory with ease
forever unsatisfied and craving more of the same
sharp edges and all
praying for a satiation in some distant future
She knows will never come
Only here
in this tiny universe
can I spell out anything resembling rationality
from the mess and junk and tangled tendrils of my Mind
Only here
can I extract bits and pieces of thoughts
and try to puzzle them together
until they make sense
until I can separate “Me” from “Reality"
And what doesn’t make sense
what I need to understand
is why I feel so beset
with this heavy magnetism that
overpowers me to the point of
paralysis
(with little to no room for breathing)
and why it was you
who pushed me into this feeling
and you
who is still pulling me along
far past the threshold of my resistance
and I am done
and it stings
Sep 13, 2018
Sep 13, 2018 at 12:51 PM UTC
Love is love,
And details don't matter.
Love is caring,
And kind,
And affectionate.
It doesn't matter what the circumstances.
A man and a woman,
Two men,
Two women,
A black person and a white person,
A Mexican and Italian.
A Christian and a Jew.
An Atheist and Buddhist.
One who's 17 and one who's 22.
All of these are love.
I don't care what you say,
Or what your textbook definition of love is.
Nothing you say can change my mind.
Love is beautiful.
Now shut your mouth,
And stop the hate.
Nov 25, 2013
Nov 25, 2013 at 10:13 AM UTC
Sometimes I wonder
About all these screens
Reality captured and controlled
Designed and refined
Groomed to an idealistic state of too good to be true
Making it a bit too easy to day dream
Sometimes I wonder
About all those moments
Those times so clearly photographed
With a piercing sting behind the camera
Fantasy proposing the changes that can't be made
For those moments that you can't forget
Sometimes I wonder
About all I haven't seen
Billions upon billions of molecular possibilities
Shown through animals, forests, seas, circumstances
All going on beyond the length of my perceptions
Giving me a yearning for more than before
But...
Sometimes I know
Despite all the anxieties of self perception
The hindsight consumption pressuring pointlessly
And the necessary humility in a world that is small itself
That there's a lot I can do to find contentment in life
And plenty of time to do it
Mar 31, 2012
Mar 31, 2012 at 9:37 PM UTC
1116
There is another Loneliness
That many die without—
Not want of friend occasions it
Or circumstances of Lot
But nature, sometimes, sometimes thought
And whoso it befall
Is richer than could be revealed
By mortal numeral—
8.4k
only the moon knew her darkest secrets, the depth of her thought was the deepest, up all night, its something she does frequent, she's an angel from heaven, that fell for a demon, a beautiful image, turned into a broken spirit, constant arguments and disagreements,
her smile held pain, but she stuck to concealment, because her friends and the world were incoherent, I got to see her smile one day, ever since then, nothing has been the same,
she no longer puts that same smile on her face, she once felt grace, but it turned to disgrace, the beauty she holds is inexplainable, the purity in her soul is gold, yet unattainable, because she no longer holds trust,
what she thought was love, turned into lust,,an addicting drug, that having is a must, the magical feeling, turned into dust, she misses the memories, kisses, and hugs, now she confides in her own sorrow, asking god for a better tomorrow, he gives her a light to follow, but her own pride is hard to swallow, A beautiful intelligent female, who felt love through the most intimate detail,
at school she was the most diligent female, filled in amazing aspects, and assets, but she continues to feel the absence, and still doesnt comprehend the circumstances,
for his actions, of dissatisfaction,
still to this day hasnt changed her reaction, the biggest heart break shes ever dealt with, it was minor to him, but her heart really felt it, like a beautiful ice sculpture, she melted,
and there I was the person to who she vented, staring deep into her dark brown eyes, i saw what nobody else saw, deep deep inside, she was wise at mind, i searched more within, as the sun rised, a beautiful lonely girl, that told me under the stars and moonlight,
"hold me close and never let go."
i was there to carefully listen,
she opened up like a book.
after she looked up to me and said i was different, that i just might be what her heart was missin,
her eyes and smile once again glistened, i told her,
"look at the stars, look how they shine for you, until the stars in the sky shine no more, i'll always be there, until the end of time for you."
Dec 19, 2013
Dec 19, 2013 at 2:25 PM UTC
She always had a way of standing above her circumstances.
Even in the way she dressed, it was like she was going somewhere better later. Yet above her logic and even above her poise she held within her a jar of emotion locked inside for the one worthy. The jar was hidden and no one knew just all that hid underneath the soles of her Jimmy Choo's. And my God she was brilliant, and my God she could make it on her own; but she didn't want to.
Aug 3, 2015
Aug 3, 2015 at 7:16 PM UTC
I picked up flowers in my garden before first days of autumn, dried to save them from black magic of winter and cold breaths of sky. I put them between warm rays on my windowsills in arms of cozy home to bring spirit of life forever in their bones. I saved compositions of their scent on my lips, so you will feel endless, enigmatic, healing symphony in my kiss. I will leave sweet taste in your mouth little by little until dark mirror of your thoughts and wounds break into innocent fields of flowers full of butterflies and indispensable, clear-eyed raconteur of happiness speaking in every fragile petal silences your fleeting and long-lasting demons endowing your shadow with seductive light, tiredness with aliveness of grass, broken dreams with ubiquity of creation, fears with ineffable tranquility. This is how I love you. I will save you from the worst. I will never let you die inside no matter how cold are your days. I will fill your soul with air of metaphysical love of past eras and magic of innumerable, free-flowing joys not based on any circumstances. I will fill your thoughts with romantic myths and insatiable fantasies and old-fashioned poems. I will cover you to sleep with my dragonfly soul no matter how cold life could be.
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 4:13 PM UTC
Every place I turn
I can't unsee the horrors I've known
I can't say I have had it the worst
Not by a long shot
But it hasn't been butterflies
No three year old wants to see
Random men in their house with
Their mama when their daddy's not home
And no six year old should have to see
Parents so enraged
And divorcing
Nor should their best friend's parents
Feel a need to adopt them
Even temporarily
No seven year old should
Feel they need to be twenty-seven
And like they aren't allowed to cry
No ten year old should be forced
To choose which parent they like best
Under any circumstances
No twelve year old should feel
Any desire to harm themselves
And watch blood swell on their arms
No fourteen year old should think they're
Wrong because they believed in love
Nor should they feel jaded
No fifteen year old should contemplate suicide
At all
Especially not so thought out
With a grand scheme and everything
Just two months before their sweet sixteen
No sixteen year old should feel betrayed
And forgotten
Or unworthy of any kind of love
Every step I take I am reminded
That life is a widening gyre
Mr. Yeats, you were right
But I can't accept that to be
The only plausible possibility
Which leads me to believe
That with every step I take
Though my heart is torn to bits
By this minefield called life
I get a little bit
Stronger
Jul 18, 2016
Jul 18, 2016 at 1:48 AM UTC
WHEN the jury files in to deliver a verdict after weeks of direct and cross examinations, hot clashes of lawyers and cool decisions of the judge,
There are points of high silence-twiddling of thumbs is at an end-bailiffs near cuspidors take fresh chews of tobacco and wait-and the clock has a chance for its ticking to be heard.
A lawyer for the defense clears his throat and holds himself ready if the word is "Guilty" to enter motion for a new trial, speaking in a soft voice, speaking in a voice slightly colored with bitter wrongs mingled with monumental patience, speaking with mythic Atlas shoulders of many preposterous, unjust circumstances.
7.5k
I’m Biracial.
Which did you notice first?
The me that looks like you or the me that looks like other?
There is no denying what I am—
from my last name to the shape of eyes,
you’ll know I’m not white.
But you’ll also immediately notice
I’m not quite not white.
I’m not quite not white enough.
White-passing.
“extremely” white passing until:
someone sees my last name
takes longer than five seconds to look at me
notices something “other” about me.
Other...
not one box to check on your
“optional” choose one diversity survey
Can’t check White. Can’t check Asian.
other...“Decline to Answer”
I’m Biracial. White-passing—
but not enough to stop ignorance
ignorance in the form of
questions and comments
meant to be “harmless” or “curious”
but ones that strip me of defining my own identity
“So are you a math Asian or a **** Asian?”
“You don’t look Asian enough for your last name.”
“Why are you trying to whitewash yourself for them?”
“Diversity quota”
And in comparison, those aren’t the worst things to hear.
By age ten I knew which words were meant to hurt
and which were meant out of ignorance.
Which racial slur applied to me.
I’m Biracial.
The same system that builds up half of me tears down the other half.
But— The model minority myth means something to you.
So you’ll build my other half up at the expense of someone else.
You’ll make me feel uncomfortable in my own identity
to fit what you need in the circumstances
Statistics to fit your workplace diversity quota
But still white passing so you can use micro aggressions as a joke
because I’m “white enough” that they should be funny.
I’m Biracial. Not other.
Not part you and part not you.
Not “missing” something.
I am wholly biracial.
Feb 4, 2019
Feb 4, 2019 at 4:50 AM UTC
I was built-
In frigid cold
Under painful circumstances
So delicate
Fragile, I was
When they created me.
They built me up from the ground,
Where I had fallen
Carefully they picked me up
Plastered a new nose on my face
Two black eyes
Two very empty eyes
And a smile.
A smile that would always fall off
I was finally something new
Not better,
Just different.
I believed I had been saved.
Until the day I realized,
I had been
Created in the coldest depths
Of other people's souls
Who gave me empty eyes
And a broken smile.
They made a snowman
And left me out in the cold
Because once they made me
I had no more use
Left alone to die
Waiting for-
The first wave of heat to come along.
Mar 4, 2015
Mar 4, 2015 at 10:05 PM UTC
On your Marc, Get Set, GO!!
3 Marks, in 2 days
A sign...
Obvious in fact.
First there was the Mark of the Cathedral
Perfect in It"s Reverence,
Baptism of Creativity.
Then, there was the Racehorse.
Faster than a speeding Bullet,
able to leap tall buildings with a single ping
And then finally,
the one whose name means Beautiful...
Artist, Creativity, Perfection..
the only one who matters...
Three Marks, one Anointing.
A confirmation of Love
An Ordination of Willingness
God's pen upon the paper.
the true Mark of Humanity
Blessing.
In all circumstances
Blessing.
Peace, Holy Spirit.
And So It Is.
Dec 3, 2015
Dec 3, 2015 at 2:48 AM UTC
looking back, i’ve realized
that in the moment
i tend to be anxious and impatient
and i don’t trust
that everything will work itself out
and i ache to know
exactly what is waiting for me
around the corner
will i alter my circumstances
or will my circumstances alter me?
i mindlessly allow myself to become faithless
and although i’ve overcome so many obstacles,
my eyes become fixated on the present
and i forget to take a step back
and reflect on my past
everyone always says,
“don’t look back,”
but i think it’s important
to remember where you once stood
and recognize how far you’ve come
i know i’ve changed
and i know i will continue to change
so why at 2am on a monday night
do i get stuck believing
that things will always be the same?
Jun 27, 2013
Jun 27, 2013 at 12:44 PM UTC