"imbalance" poems
You say doctors will
make the best poets.
They will search your emotions
by the skin; cutting open to reveal
and revel
with surgical precison.
They will play with
heavy drugs and blades--
nothing shall hide beneath
the armors of bone and muscle.
They know the anatomy
of the heart too well.
They will find the things
you have hidden in your chest.
I say
doctors will never be poets.
They are too mechanical,
too fast with their edges
and ridges.
They cannot see the pain
as pain but merely as an anomaly.
That sadness is black bile
not melancholia.
They cannot sing to you
but only clammer in medical jargon.
Poets will use their imperfect words,
and perfect rhymes
to find the secrets of your rib cage
with ease.
They will find every flaw
of your broken body
and make it the best story
you've never heard.
Doctors,
they will put love to define as
a momentary rush of adrenaline,
an arrythmia for another human
caused due to an imbalance of the heart rhythm.
Poets will tell you
that love is the first jolt
of life for them.
They will say love is a state of euphoria
that takes those irregular rhythms to perfect symphonies.
Doctors say that
veins carry blood
devout of oxygen.
I say that they carry your broken emotions
to their feelings factory
to mend it within its beautiful catacombs.
All those doctors
will find and fix you
with perfect solutions.
And these poets
will do their best
to be your perfect solution.
Jan 31, 2014
Jan 31, 2014 at 8:25 AM UTC
The feds are making headway
(generously passing out their treats!)
*while the whistle blower
and his boon companion
hit the 22nd floor*
fiscal plans
are tidily falling into place
and the suits are all busy
chasing their dimes
dancing around the spire
full of wine and cheer
(seems the demand side imbalance
has got everyone doing the same old shimmy!)
they’re all studying their bollinger bands
MACD's, and treasuries
just like the good old days
santali would say
while capitol hill is busy
with its own pleasantries;
*repatriate that currency
hold those rates
bring the boys back home!*
the affirmations are robust
and filled with glee!
conspiracy thinkers
are busy in their own back rooms
initiating the trade
and building their counter claims
as pork bellies
and soybeans
continue to soar
(looks like eddy and the margin men
are at it again!)
what happened to that bear masquerade anyways?
they really were a band of brothers
colourful clowns
with big painted smiles
ready to lead in any parade
but they met with the resistance
a horned wall
satan’s horsemen riding high
with bags hung heavy
under dark squinting eyes
are we near an end?
the undertakers will say
it's only a blink of an eye
to the thin red line
where risk takers and front men
all jump ship
debt addiction is crippling
and hell breaks loose
when entitlements are out
and towels are thrown in
there’s a center piece here
those pugnacious statesmen
with invigorating tales
have had their place
time to clip them at the limbs
and pull the punch from the bowl
(sobriety has its merits you know!)
let’s head to the commission
and throw darts to the board ~
seems the moral blueprints are fading
Nov 11, 2017
Nov 11, 2017 at 5:47 PM UTC
Fear and panic sweep over me.
I need to move
but I'm paralyzed by my need for normalcy.
One pop of a pill and it will drift away,
and I will sleep.
But sleep is for the weak,
or is sleep for the week?
That's what my body
bounces back and forth between.
There is no middle.
No start.
Eventually an End.
The inner meaning of desire
bounces from my heart to my head,
as if it is the ball in a pin ball machine.
I try to fight off this anxious feeling,
though it is a chemical imbalance in my brain.
Why do I fight with the chemicals in my body?
I fight to feel normal.
I fight to not rely on a simple pop of a pill that my doctor gives me.
She tells me to take it when I need it, she trusts me.
Sometimes I feel that trust is too much.
Because this anxiety is a metaphor for life,
and I know that problems cannot be solved, by one simple solution.
I fight to be strong.
Jan 9, 2014
Jan 9, 2014 at 12:51 PM UTC
A beautiful mountain, white with snow
A light breeze, a wind ice cold
Frozen in time, I stare in awe
Under ice is a heart so raw
Diamonds glistening, ice shimmering
An imbalance of time and minds dancing
Beauty and despair frozen in ice
Waiting for summer sun to pay the price
Still and quiet, but the pain screams in your head
Frozen in place beside your bed
Staring into the pains
A hundred rocks flow through your veins
A thousand needles biting skin
Outward calm, but screaming within
Summer warmth approaching
Ice slowly melting, diamonds gleaming
With perseverance you break the ice
It falls, shattering, what a sacrifice
I watch as there is nothing I can do
As your body shed the ice encasing you
It is beauty and despair, intertwined
Dripping to the floor, Oh how I adore
To watch you come alive. An uproar!
No longer frozen, full of motion
As if watching a glistening ocean
You stand tall, high above us all
For you melted the ice, made it fall
Leaving only a memory
Your fight so strong, dauntlessly
Standing, living, believing, and yet...
Your feet are wet, so with regret
I must inform of icy returns
Gone are the days of summer sunburns
For ice will come, it will be done
Your body shunned from our warm sun
You will freeze again, be lost again
Icy diamonds will shine like back then
You must remain strong while waiting,
Frozen in time that is crippling
Shed your ice everyday, overcome
One day Summer will stay and all this will be done
Oct 3, 2018
Oct 3, 2018 at 12:43 PM UTC
for vicki who loves this poem for the best reason ever: just does...
<•>
read a thousand love stories,
pause, rest awhile,
read ten thousand more,
and then deny equality.
If you ask for no more than you can give,
you ask for not enough
love is imbalance not an equation,
with a single solution
love has both constants and variable factors
so you write of tribulations and tributes
so you write of lamentations and liftings
you think you are on the same page
perhaps
but do we not all read at different paces?
one of you is solid, one is dotted and dashed
one of you is straight, one is bent, forever curving
when you think you are
in balance
in the same place
in syncopation
perhaps you are for a moment
a calculus of one point on a trajectory
and you say I can only ask for what I give
and am given
and no more,
you have miscalculated
this flux
flummoxed
when the old terrain is flayed flat
but thru the windshield you see the
plateau ends, the geography unknown,
when you see unknown
when you seek the unknown
when you give from places you did not know
you had to give from
when you kiss a hand
for twenty minutes more than than the one minute you intended
when you give more than is asked
when you ask for more than you can you think you can give
the imbalance that is the only concert
the imbalance that is the the only constant
how do I know this?
what are my credentials?
you are not a teenage girl,
what matters of what you know, recall of these matters?
I am who I am
a diversity of man and manner;
I am past prime and in decline
but this I know
for having failed ten thousand poem times
you must ask for more than one can give
but that's not fair!
silly one, still wretched confused,
even after one hundred thousand poem times
you must ask of
yourself
more than you can give
and ask no less
demand no less
a body in emotion is not a body in rest
when the imbalance is too great or insufficient
then you write a poem
look in the mirror that cannot lie
and move
on
or
move off
begin to ask
yourself
to whom may I give myself
more than is asked.
then you have finally asked
the correct solution to the
unsolvable equation
---
Mar 10, 2016
Mar 10, 2016 at 1:40 PM UTC
The proudest of men that walk the earth
Have been doused in glory since the day of their births
They chase after those who've run away
Speak when there is not a word to say
And their greatest endeavor is to convert the innocent
Hungry for the women striking young and brilliant
Unbelieving of a lady's independence
Sure that all women crave their presence
Like rabid dogs, the proud men search
For those to quench their undying thirst
To be loved and accepted of men of the heart
But these men only search in the emptiness of dark
How can they deny the truth in their faces?
They imbalance the world and its natural paces
No one can love an arrogant, proud man
But they search and search, yet they never understand
That love is for those who are willing to fail
Nov 24, 2014
Nov 24, 2014 at 11:30 PM UTC
The Equalist!
RE: The guerrilla girl’s poster 5% women artists yet 85% of the models are female.
This poster was heralded as a feminist rebuff of misogyny and the male gaze.
It is my opinion: one of the reasons females are more sexualised than males in Western society; is because the majority of women working in a sexualised industry such as modelling, dancing, fashion or *********** choose to perpetuate that role and the connection between *** and femininity; often in industries where females outnumber the men six to one; I'm also aware that the majority of the hierarchy in theses industries are male, it seems their gender solidarity is more concerned with the money; than notions of ****** inequality; thus perpetuating the issue.
Vernacular test:
Step one - Question one:
I took a survey of 30 fellow artists asking what is a misandry? followed by what is your gender?
Step two - Question two:
I took a survey of 30 fellow artists asking what is a misogyny? followed by what is your gender?
I did offer any information or allow any of the subjects to see the survey paper, or overhear the question.
Results: 30 subjects took part in the survey; One female knew both words and their meaning, and one female didn't know what Misogyny was. (Two females approached refused to take part in the survey, all men approached engaged.)
Step three - Question three:
I then gave all the subjects the dictionary definition and asked why they thought the vernacular misandry is not as well known as the word misogyny?
(I should add that I too couldn't recall the vernacular meaning of: Misandry; though I could recall the meaning or definition of Misogyny.)
Answers:
Female... "I don't care"
Female... "It's due to a gender economic imbalance"
Female..."Blokes just don't like it when women speak out about it"
Female..."I don't get involved in protests"
Female..."I don't know"
Female..."Men just think with their ******
Female... "There's more misogynists"
Female... "Because men are pigs"
Female... "Why does it mater"
Female... "It's just a word"
Female... "I'm not interested"
Female..."Try being a women"
Female... " It's ******** it's just a vernacular"
Female..."You wouldn't understand your a man"
The other 5 Females... chose to offer no explanation.
Answers:
Male..."I don't know"
Male... "who cares"
Male... "Yeh that's interesting"
Male... Why does it matter"
Male... "Let me think about it"
Male... "Who gives a ****
Male... "What's this about"
Male... "Can I see the results later"
The other 2 males... Chose to offer no explanation.
I personally identify as human; and don't wish to be defined, labeled or marginalised; I also don’t believe that secularism in any measure is healthy or meaningful in an inclusive society.
I question why 29 out of 30 subjects had heard of Misogyny; and just one person had heard of Misandry.
Sexism is not as the dictionary suggested prejudice, stereotyping, or discrimination, typically against women.
Everyone is effected buy prejudice, stereotyping, or discrimination.
The subtleties of which is played out every day.
Feb 5, 2020
Feb 5, 2020 at 11:32 AM UTC
Atoms circulate between the nuclei of touch
Schrodinger’s laws exposing deceit and truth
Lamenting in the protons, electrons, and neutrons
Encircling the senses between the eyes and fingers
Particles flow between the elements of breathing
Of soul, of emotion, and memories worn thin
In terminal velocities of thought and contemplation
Barriers of consciousness and reality
Molecules of intentions, intricate and delicate
Bound together by ionic twists of fate
And strained into bent bonds of insecurity
Providing violent reactions of regrets
Ions, formed in this union, complicate the formula
Indifferent to the imbalance between the sighs
Requiring the impact, to leave a free electron of motive
Resulting in a positive change of heart and mind
© 2014
Feb 4, 2015
Feb 4, 2015 at 5:39 AM UTC
Depression,
I caught you swimming in my sorrow, you were drowning in
my tears.
There in my mind I laid down
my life but you stole my heart instead and I lost my mind amongst the shadows.
In the battle of my chemical imbalance I fight for my right to be happy again.
I am dancing in the dark
with myself, my heart beats
in the shadows as my breath
stands to the side, whispering
to me keep dancing.
Exhausted and frade sorrow
follows me, my flaws abuse me,
my mistakes scared me.
Society forgot about me,
I faded into the pitch of nothing.
A void of me, frightening memories
of taunting accusations from a
devilish monster.
Those eyes of blue devoured
my hopes and dreams,
he had no love for me.
His teeth bit into me,
his harsh lashing of accusations
embodied hate and broken ideas,
from the narcissist who said
he loved me.
The narcissist invaded my dreams,
with grinding bones from the
skeleton's he stored in his closet
of screams.
Scratching my brain with his
narcissistic rants and shoveling
wants trying to steal what
I achieved for himself.
The narcissist knows nothing of
love and passionate embraces.
For the narcissist only
knows how to break things.
A narcissist gaslights until crazy
devours everything.
©️ 2022 By Amanda Shelton
Jun 21, 2022
Jun 21, 2022 at 7:44 PM UTC
Black is your coffee
Toasted and buttered your bread
Half past seven,
A quick peck on the cheek
off you go to the bank
one solid day you spend at the bank
a loyal servant of the bank of commerce
Your lover number one,
the bank..always the bank...
you'd be at the bank till all workers gone home
you'd be at your desk checking the accounts
making it balance , counting the profits
recovering the loss...
If there is an award for the banker of the year
The outstanding achievement
and the bla... bla... bla...
The winner is you, without a doubt...
While you're making your accounts pretty
Perfecting your financial reports
The dinner is getting too cold
The kids are growing up so fast
Your cat is getting too old
Your wife is sulking too long
Your house is getting too far
Your family is slowly vanishing...
not physically of course...
the souls of love and life
is disappearing little by little...
Dear banker,
If you happen to listen to this
banker's wife blues...today
Hope you'd throw the balance sheets in the basket
and sit with your wife and kids
in a garden,
drinking a cup of English tea
Eating some home made biscuits...
How much bonus is more worthwhile
than watching your kids growing up
before your eyes...
kissing your wife good night
tasting the love doses...
Tell me, after listening to all these?
Will you still worry about your imbalance bank accounts?
May 27, 2013
May 27, 2013 at 11:26 AM UTC
The wind diverges the horizon boughs
into view finders of royal blue.
The flicker of the blue beyond washes to
brown sticks fettered with dry leaves.
Oh what cadence ensues,
From a bent bough and a
Sifting wind?
If that limb but a will,
And that breeze but a pulse,
Harmony would hide in the
Heartbeat of an eternal summer.
Yet eternity suffers sterile sadness,
And cadence breeds a timid tempo
Of hollow trees against a grey sky.
So speak the world in discord,
Unveil blue skies from cacophonous trees of green,
And push the wind in hurricanes.
As wind and bough dance in perfect imbalance,
I admire the flicker of their countenance.
May 7, 2014
May 7, 2014 at 4:34 PM UTC
We kissed so much
I would come home hiding my swollen lips.
And you sat with me for my first psychiatrist appointment,
and told me everything was going to be okay.
So i engulfed myself in you,
and ended up drowning.
A simple chemical imbalance was too ****** up for you.
I would get home and the only things swollen were my eyes.
Why would you tell me you would teach me how to swim,
and then hold my head under the water?
Nov 19, 2014
Nov 19, 2014 at 9:56 PM UTC
Biology TED talk, Ken Burns WWII
Multiple choice plus open response =
Teacher cares, out there among the English
Mathematics, fractions to imaginary i
Anything can happen any time, I mean
Mass killing--public school, movie theater,
Post office when every mother wears a gun
Yet happiness permeates like CO2 + sunlight
Photosynthesis + electricity = burning bush
Hot tea, hot shower pleasure perfect rest
Early to bed, no more lies, complexity
Poetry about history, i.e. Wolfowitz
As for non-fiction, most things qualify to know
Astrobiology, search for LUCA, FLO
Minerals on Titan, organisms on Enceladus
Divination on Iapetus, peace on Earth and Tethys
Volcanoes and tsunamis, Big Red One and Private Ryan
Don't stay up late, take your vitamins
Sin and crime being nothing more than
Mental malaise, imbalance. Love and compromise
Tolerance, practice worksheets, brilliance
Prejudice and superstition, Tha's a wrap
Nothin doin, ain't gonna happen, freedom's when
Yes is mostly a blessing and No is always an option
Feb 3, 2019
Feb 3, 2019 at 8:14 AM UTC
There is a new word describing me
type one, type two, type three
nothing is as it once seemed
brown bandages become red, ******
catheters go up my urethra
when I refuse to take your drug test
by accident.
I'm clean, now, clean and pure
I take Abilify to make sure
and remember that it's all an imbalance
and remember that everyone else is balanced
and remember that the whole ******* world is balanced
on a tether formed by gravity
gravity-- the severity of this situation-- is lost on me
and on that tether we all walk
unbridled by the weight of our bodies
we can shake all that makes us human
and pathologize every thought crime
every idea needs to be cleansed
with a catheter into the brain
we would be able to test it for drugs
and find that all I was high on was existence
and how terrible it is
that we will all die
but that shouldn't bother a doctor at all, now
should it.
May 2, 2013
May 2, 2013 at 4:49 PM UTC
Growing up,
There was no "newest form of technology," no "stylish clothes," no "little puppy". Never a collection of Barbie dolls.
Realizing
She was surrounded,
a plastic society,
choicelss.
Simple figures. Thoughtless taste.
Molded forms.
Unseasoned cuisine.
Unrealistic ideas.
Unsalted frenchfries.
Styled hair, bright eyes, rosy cheeks.
Growing up normal,
No distinct collar bones, permanent bags, big feet.
Brainwashed
convinced of being un-proportional.
No first picks. No invitations. No turn at princess.
Whispers about "that girl"
Not listening, but hearing
every
word.
Lesson learned
Chained to the plastic society.
Barbie dolls as examples, imbalance of body image expressed.
No "styled hair," no "big eyes".
Chained; foolish concepts.
Attempting to escape the prison worse than death:
alienation.
Bring it on.
Darkest places, broken rules,
done being molded, through being fooled.
Always considered "that girl. Breaking free
from this brainwashed, plastic society.
Sep 6, 2015
Sep 6, 2015 at 10:16 PM UTC
My heart beats with dissonance—
the kind of clash that grits teeth
and twists pretty faces.
Still, she pulses, unforgiving,
to her own imbalance,
aware of her existence;
aware that the definition of music
is infinite,
and her song will never beg
to be understood.
Mar 1, 2016
Mar 1, 2016 at 12:45 PM UTC
I breathe in until I feel like my lungs might explode. I tighten my neck muscels and before I can think - My entire body is tense.
I'm trying to supress it. It has ruined so much but I will not let it ruin another moment...
I grind my teeth trying to supress it further, not realizing that grinding my teeth ... was a tic too.
Letting my mind slip for a second; I come to find that I have failed - once again
I flick my head, blink my eyes violently - turning the day into a stop motion movie - Once again I already know the plot.
Everything is moving in slowmotion around me - my body moving too fast to hold it in I fail - once again my body is dancing to a beat that is not mine.
I feel the pain in my neck. It is sore from giving into the neverending urge - once again it is strained from constant twitching and has been for god knows how long.
I try to ignore the pain and focus on supressing what's coming next, but being distracted by the pain I fail - once again I flick my head and exhale as fast as humanly possible. The exhale doesn't come alone - it never does. A pallette of sounds escape my mouth.
It was not me making those sounds, but the lungs affected by the pain are mine.
I feel the cycle starting over - once again.
It goes through me like a wave of energy.
I have been robbed of the control over my own body - once again.
The power to fight back has ... vanished.
I go to bed early but sleep late; battling this force with every shard of energy I could possibly have left - Once again leaving me exhausted enough to finally sleep, despite the constant twitching.
They say it's a chemical imbalance in my brain.
Too much dopamine is released.
As far as I'm concerned dopamine is a "Feel good hormone", so why does it make me so miserable?
I lay here thinking about when this cycle will end?
And when it finally does end, when will it restart? - Once again...
Dec 30, 2018
Dec 30, 2018 at 7:28 PM UTC
I'm hyper and happy with energy to spare
Fast speech, racing mind
I spread love everywhere
A giant smile is all I bare until
a certain darkness
fills the air
You feel rampant with no good rage
Trapped in your sorrows
like a rusted shut cage
You remind yourself you're not crazy
Sometimes you're really happy
or just tired
and lazy
Sometimes you lose feeling in your fingers and toes
Like you're in the basement of a coroner
raw and exposed
Other times, you're on a hamster wheel
sweating and racing
Feeling your skin turn
rubber and chafing
I have no control over my emotions and mood
And, yes, I know that
that's no excuse
I come off strong with my opinions and personality
Which many think is wonderful or an abnormality
I'm seen in different lights
because I don't know which one to stand in
I'm only myself in my writing
and that's the happiest I've been
Pen and paper give me the control
my chemical imbalance never has
I can feel calm and genuine and less of a spazz
I'm slowly accepting
my past
mistakes
and reality
Mental illness is stigmatized
But we need to face our morality
Hell!
Carrie Fisher was bipolar though
we didn't talk about it in that era
If she was bipolar then
I'm just like Princess Leia
Dec 5, 2018
Dec 5, 2018 at 9:59 PM UTC
Resistance,
It is all I know.
Forks and spoons
Are all for show.
My taste buds,
Numbing.
My senses,
Succumbing.
To bitter truth
Of my body,
Crumbling.
My stomach,
Rumbling.
This is torture and divine,
All at the same time.
For I am blind,
And my body is weak.
Crawling with little energy,
For no meal shall I eat.
I will wait and see,
Who finds me,
In front of my reflection.
For sustenance,
I welcome rejection.
My body,
Now filled with injection.
For you mention,
That I
Am a section
Of what I used to be.
Leaving me
To feel like rotten meat.
But you,
Scolded my body.
Isn't this what you wanted to see?
Nov 13, 2023
Nov 13, 2023 at 3:19 PM UTC
Near a town of history untold
Where everyone knows each name
Wooden behemoths - obliviously old
Each unique but each the same
It was meant to be a perfect day
Of tranquility through the trees
Instead, the sky is brood with grey
And the leafs flow as they please
Alone, in nature's splendor spilled
In a rainy wilderness, seldom seen
The birds and insects grow suddenly still
In a spread silence of the green
Like eyes embedded in your back
You sense the stare of something sour
The mood hurries to horrid black
As you quiver into a cower
In bending branches blended
Creeping in creases - camouflaged
Nature's imbalance to be amended
In the forest's full mirage
Witness a terror appearing
Frantically floating from afar
Emerged in echoes and vaguely veering
Black, bleak and bizarre
A malevolent, monstrous maw
Snarls of hunger, habit, and hate
A malodor of meat, reeking raw
A violently increasing heart rate
From frozen still to fearfully shaking
You are manically mesmerised
Your pupils promptly dilating
As you and the beast lock eyes
Your meaningless attempt to run
From a stride to a collapse
The beams above crown the sun
As the twigs around you snap
A soar of pain as you hit the ground
Chest cavity cracked open
As you faint, you hear the sound
Of a language never spoken.
Gutted and gargling gore
Eaten by nature's nightmare
Convulsing on a forest floor
Indifference chokes the air
It's just another perfect day
Of tranquility in the trees
The rain has stopped, the leafs still sway
With the cooling, comfortable breeze
Jan 31, 2018
Jan 31, 2018 at 3:46 PM UTC
There is exemplary synergy in Nature
Coexistence of the birthed life
It’s a wonder for the wanderers
We try to create an imbalance
By our negligence and ambivalence
Bound and cloaked in this invisible bond
We are at risk of alienating ourselves
Severing ties with the lifeline
We cannot decipher the rich synergy
Mortals we all are, but some, lesser mortals
Mar 13, 2015
Mar 13, 2015 at 2:04 AM UTC
We divert rivers for desert fountains
Mine the very souls of mountains
yet we cannot spare the cash to feed the poor
Election hopefuls promise lies
while they look us in the eyes
then line their pockets like any other corporate *****
The treasury of this nation
thrives on fiscal ************
massaging figures til the money is all spent
And while we're all left to drown
some get bailed out to higher ground
as they stand upon the ninety nine percent
Why does the power of human greed
come before helping those in need
or is compassion blind, no longer can she see?
I pray to god I'm not alone
so if you appreciate my tone
come out and Occupy this planet Earth with me
Dec 1, 2011
Dec 1, 2011 at 4:06 PM UTC
Sometimes I wonder,
How can someone at fifteen years old
Go through depression?
How someone so young
Can already be exhausted
Of the world they still haven't known
And sometimes I think,
Maybe it's not real
But I am living example
I wonder, maybe, it's just a phase
But phases last years not a lifetime
Maybe it's genetics,
From each branch and every leaf
In the family tree with a chemical imbalance
But how come they don't understand?
Sometimes I think,
Maybe it's the people around me
And so I isolate myself away from everybody
Feeling relaxed but not quite happy
So maybe it's the surrounding,
So every few months I always end up moving
And I don't trace my steps I don't look back
I just keep running and running
From everyone and everything
The friends who were always there listening,
Relatives who were sometimes annoying,
And a lover who'd kept trying,
And everytime I leave they ask why
And tell me you are so confusing
But I don't answer back
I just keep running and running
Until I realize,
I'm running away from my problems
And the problem is myself.
So maybe young people with depression
Do exist, and I am one
And maybe there's no way out of it
Because my depression and I live in unison.
Merged together, stuck with one another
Struggling to live in a body
That keeps getting uglier,
Trapped inside a skin full of scars and blisters
That I have not once considered
How to make them all better.
Because it's who I am, it's my home
With my melancholic half
And half a soul of my own
Pain and depression
Are really the only things I've felt and known.
So maybe it's possible and it does exist
The only place it doesn't
Is in my sleep and in my dreams
And when I wake up
My sadness alarm tells me,
Welcome home!
Sorry it's not a sweet one though.
-djs
Aug 25, 2013
Aug 25, 2013 at 1:06 AM UTC
I wish I wasn't so upset by a lack of music in my ears,
I feel so alone when no one's there to dry my tears.
I'm wasting time trying to figure out what I feel,
Instead of realizing all the things I have that are real.
I've skipped all the good and jumped to the bad,
I'm a worst-case-scenario thinker that's always sad.
Questioning intentions and arguing compliments
Instead of worshipping myself and my accomplishments.
Tell me why I should have the right to complain,
Besides the fact that I'm burning alive in pain,
A mental pain that exists due to a chemical imbalance
Kind of ironic that a libra would encounter that challenge.
But nevertheless, here I am wanting to scream,
Asking God why I can't have what I dream.
Not sure why I feel so empty when I'm alone,
but when people are near, I turn hard as stone.
I'm a catch 22, a ******* hypocrite, too.
Being a happy person is hard work when you're naturally blue.
Fighting the same battles, years after years,
An internal struggle to justify all these **** tears.
But when the music is gone, it all comes to the surface,
I am an endless cliche of a girl with no purpose.
Apr 29, 2014
Apr 29, 2014 at 10:35 PM UTC
**Anything is possible...
Even the impossible
Note that I said ‘the impossible’
And not ‘the seemingly impossible’...
This reality to me has always seemed plausible
Even when I was cold and hard-hearted, when inside my chest there was an icicle
This kind of faith kept me balanced
Like riding a bicycle
Through sanity and mental imbalance
Through all those self-deceptive lies we call…
‘Necessary evils’
When separating the good grain from the bad, do we ever make an exception and say to ourselves… “It isn't fit for consumption, but I’ll keep this grain… for it has but one necessary weevil…”?
If it isn't good for me, it simply isn't good
And I have to distance myself from it
And it is possible for I say it is
It may have seemed impossible previously
For that was how I saw it as
Not anymore
I will ease over this hurdle
And look forward to many more
Yes, look forward to them
For there are no limits anymore.**
Feb 13, 2013
Feb 13, 2013 at 3:57 AM UTC