Helpers helping the Helpless
Helpless helping the Helpers
Helpers Killing the Helpless
Helpless praying for the Helpers
One day The Helpers will be the Helpless
One day The Helpless will be Helping
and Soon oh Soon they will both be Helped
by something Higher
The Ulmighty Helper
The Ulmighty Helpess
But who Helps the Higher One?

What happens when you fall apart? When you truly cannot see eye to eye again? When you cannot explain how you ended up screaming at each other? When saying am sorry cannot work anymore? What happens?
You know they say love is something to fight for. That you should not give up if you truly believe in each other. They also say that if you love something you have to let it go and if it belongs to you it will come back. So which is which? Which saying do i follow? How helpess must i be for love to work for me again?
Sometimes i can't even take time to breath. It feels like sin. Both of us seem to hurt. One more than the other. Love is like that someone feels it more than the other. There was a time we were inseperable. Like sea to salt now we are like sea to sky. I want to say we are both at fault. That is what she said.
I was afraid of loosing people once. Loosing them to the world. I was afraid of that. Not anymore. People leave anyway whether you want them to stay or not. Fact is no one really stays.
Someone told me once that you should strive to understand more than to be understood. I feel that now.
There so many things i would like to say her. Things i feel she did to me that are not fair but what person would i be if i did?
There is no victory in foolish blame neither is there saving with a heart that is filled with anger and hatred. You must do it with love. I will try.

Love is forgiveness and compassion. I am glad someone told me this.


Yours,
The Red_Head

I don't want to be helpess anymore,
It was easier, I'll no longer ignore-
How I always asked your thoughts,
How I vented and never stopped.

The things I regret now feel more real,
I wish we just could've hung out;
Been normal friends,
but I was afraid to be myself.

I learned to stay down and not get up,
I'd pace my room in fantasies
Until I learned to que up
Validation felt like a drug

But now what I regret most
Is not giving you a hug,
Spilling my every thought,
And betraying you

Now you're gone

"I was always an unusual girl,. My mother told me I had a chameleon soul, no fixed personally just aninner indecisiveness that was as wide and as wavering as the ocean."
I felt like a ghost walking in a body, living only to die, living only to exist.
The war in my mind had me singing Ride by Lana like it was my national anthem. I walked about, helpess, pityless, heartless, tirelessy. Breathing, existing, breathing, existing ,breay=thing, existing....only exising.
Nothing seemed to matter these days, now that it was gone.
The light that was once in my eyes went out with a single blow and I walked around like a ghost with noting left and that was what it seemed.

Hurt by hurt
Blow by Blow
Dust by Dust
Breeze By breeze
Ocean to Ocean
And thats where it hapened,the spectre of my soul rises and hunts to haunt and the breathes a new life to start of.
The ghost of life is alive and never seems to rest
Restlessness
Selfishness turns to Selflessness
And it hunts
And it breathes
And its alive and then it says
Welcome back,this is home,.

......

........
And....


I......


Am..................­.................                            


                                     SPECTRE

A poem can mean a thousand things.
A poem can speak a thousand words.
A poem can have depth
A poem can contain something one in a million can see

We all have encouragement, motivation, even ideas to write the excerpt that fills our pages.
To keep us entertained, to keep us thinking, even more so loathing.

A poem can lead us down a path of gold.
Shimmering, solid, happy, wealthy.
Or a poem can lead us down a dark alley
Shivering, scary, helpess, wondering

A poem takes power and meaning to write. And everyone, has the power, even the meaning when not knowing

Take care, of the creative minds we have.
Have ideas that spring. And blossom with vibrance and beauty, then take it to the page, for watering and pruning.
We all are poets, you, her and i
And when you find a poem to rhyme, to speak, to feel, not to disservice with reading.

Remember that inspiration was there, and lives on to this day. This day of gold, or this day of gray.