Something inside me is pounding.
Do I still have a heart to feel about the situations that looks surreal?
I witnessed a horrible scenario, it was revealed.
But all I knew was there's something pounding inside me.

I can't explain if I was hurt nor I was nervous,
But I noticed something within me
It's breaking me, but I was confused
Tears won't come out, even emotions were unreadable

My hands were shaking, I was rattling deep inside me
But nothing comes out, I want to calm myself down
So all I did was to keep in silence, will you say it's gonna be alright while holding my hand?
I don't know how all of these will end.

You were full of thoughts deep inside you that was kept for a long time,
And I was constantly amazed the way  your feelings was confessed
Something that's inside your heart makes the people got impressed
But I wasn't so sure, and I think that a one false move would constitute a crime

I hate you, the way I hate other people
And that bothers me, for I should be the person who doesn't care at all
I do. In a short span of time I did stop caring
But most of the time I never think about mine

You will never be the first person who did something for me, either good or bad
But you're the only person who told me something that I forgot but can still feel it,  and its makin' me mad

This should be sweet, a message that could make your heart beat
But I don't know how to compose something
It's full of confusion, I only write because of grief
Still, I wanna write for you, for someone special that I should treat

Who am I, but a vessel of past despair,
    With a tangled knot in my mind, aware,
    "Break free from the chains of depression's snare,
     Confess your truth, find solace in the air."
     But does this advice still hold its worth,
     When wielded as a weapon, causing hurt?

"The words from a pen, a mind's indulgence,
     A gateway to thoughts, seeking resurgence,
     Escaping the prison, a soul's penitentiary,"
     Said the one who loved fiercely, with intensity.
     Yet the voice of the voiceless, it seems,
     Falls on deaf ears, lost in a realm of dreams.

Misunderstood, they heard me wrong,
     "I wished to shed my identity, be strong,
      Not brave enough to change my hair's hue,
      Like my smiles, I alter, but never anew.
      Wearing a frown, they won't take me seriously,
      Even when I express my pain so clearly.

In moments of boredom, my words flow,
     But relationships have taught me to go,
     Through a board of scrutiny, every decision,
     As if love owed me, demanding precision.
     But this time, I'll confront it head-on,
     No wooden board, just justice to be won.

Success, a pinnacle that feels unwise,
     A light-bulb to illuminate my eyes,
     To see my reflection in a brighter light,
     But as pockets fill, judgment takes flight.
     Counting the screams at empty walls,
     Filling the void that my soul enthrals.
     No cries of woe echo louder than before,
     Two Forty-Four, the hour I silently implore.

There is nothing left to do but do
I'm tired of hate and silence
I can never not talk
To suffer will be the end of this,
But I already suffer
Suffering is bearable
But to suffer with hatred is death while living
I can smile
I choose to smile even after everything
I live
And someday, I will be gone

I lived, I suffered, I loved, and it was all alright

to the friend, the stargazer
do you still write poetry?
do you still scribble your haikus
with bravery and flare?

I have come back to the homeland
but I did not see you there
when you used to be the constant
that would pop up in my head

I guess we all decided to travel
beyond the calming plains
out there in the open
throwing writing to the wind

I have lost my little sparkle
matches are all that's left
I might've dropped the candle
that my poetry has built

If you see this, dear friend
I hope you write again
I would love to see your haikus
in this lovely little page

I let the sparkle float the air
surrounded yellow, oh so, frail
for it, I could reminisce
for she is, my Everest

I have forgotten how to write,
nothing came to empty mind
darkness always made me rhyme
grief, the anger, and, of spite

but, she, my ever-rest
took me off the scary edge
led me to secure-ity
against all my diverse-ity

Wordplays are beyond me
[create-TV-tea]
but I had it, and it is
so I go back without the rest
and pause,
period,
leave.

What would you call a normal person today,
Those who go do the same routines, at certain times, they
Always have as an excuse, never trying to convince themselves,
They can do more, no confidence, fear of failure, limitations, in the mind,
The human mind, can only think one way, negative, or positive,
At one time. How  you think, what you take in the most,
Retain and repeat, reflects into everything, you do,
Watch, notice the signs.
A lazy, undisciplined mind, will lead to the worst,
Including self-pity, over time.
If you have a positive attitude, and the will to look,
Relate to the good, in all of your experiences, do it,  be proud of,
Recognize, the smallest, success stories, in your daily, finds.



                                     The Original: Tom Maxwell ©  02/06/2024 AD

You were my favourite smell for a while.
I inhaled you like you were the nicotine I so desperately needed to stay sane.
I came close to your body to smell the summer breeze, to feel like I am once again a free child walking along the shore.

On a sad afternoon, I spend the whole day browsing the drugstore, searching for a perfume that would even slightly resemble you. I can’t find it.
The next day, I smell something rotten. Something must have turned sour.
I turn around to see what it is. It was you.

this one's just an assemblage of diverse
thoughts turned I̲nto a rhymed verse
no stories (alack), like a triple-decker
turned into a roofless single-decker
["no storeys"]
best intro ever
————————————————————————————————
in mY̲ op, lyric writing is
["in my opinion"]
a type of exercising, which
along with different lyrical tricks
rap is familiar for, e[ɪ]x—
["miliar" in "familiar" is supposed to be read/pronounced as "mil ya"]
—plains why some lyrically addicted perceive
lyric writing as sport
like a gym, cO̲[ɑ]ntent has weight
but it's, bY̲ & large, curb
appeal I get fixed on, jU̲st like Max Payne (a pill)
[Max Payne is a painkiller addict]
a kind of perfectionistical stiff
who's, lyrics-wise, a fiend for technique (technique)
so, while writing lyrics, the lead
thing is rhymes, so rhyme schE̲mes must be lit (must be lit)
just like an individual with
dope delivered I̲nto the syst.
["addicted"; "a pill [appeal]"; "a fiend"; "lit"; "dope"]
[all 5 words constitute a narcotic context]
[I have no intention to glorify dope or its consumption]
in a way, rhyme's a mag—ic of syllables, which
is something that should be given good heed
like a psychopath who can easily flip
speaking of which
you want to bet whether I wI̲nd up cast
inside a go[ɑ]ddamn mad—house? inasmuch as at
["Gotham"]
times it seems I'm becoming bats (slowly)
like the Gotham order up—holder
but some lines are, by all odds, compO̲sed by, um, joker
[the Batman, who's called "Bats" by his archfoe Joker]
like somebO̲dy feeling the need
of having fun, it's a Harley Quinn you should seek
["harlequin"]
or, at least, a ******* shrink, but you keep
[Harleen Quinzel was, before falling in love with her patient Joker]
[a psychologist, which is a type of mental health specialist]
[also called by the umbrella term "shrink"]
being that dog in the mid of a lit
room like "this is fine" (not really)
this wicked mind's deprived of peace like a leak-
-taker recently finished the leak (stupid)
["****"]
how violent & vindictive it ge[ɪ]ts
sometimes, esp. when my sh#t's getting writ
guess I'm seen, like a piece of a flick
["scene"]
as a somewhat despicable *****
with all the indecency & hostility writ (like Shady)
but if there's sO̲meone willing to b#tch
about that, such type of people should twig
something: an obnoxious lyricist, which
is what I chiefly am, is by far smaller evil in this
******* world next to ones who really commit
those or other villainous deeds (smaller evil)
[everything is relative]
moral nazis, like a stripper, should ge[ɪ]t
started from the top, i.e. corrupted pieces of sh#t
upholding **** systems that ge[ɪ]t
dissidents imprisoned, or victimized in prisons, or stiffed (**** systems)
["stiffed" in the sense of "killed"]
what I do may be seen as lyrical e[ɪ]x—
["sin"]
—tremism 'cause when I fi̲ll up a sheet
for bars, I, like a jihadi mad dog, gE̲[ɪ]t off the leash
["smaller evil"; "villainous deeds"; "stripper"; "corrupted"]
["**** systems"; "victimized in prisons"; "stiffed"; "jihadi mad dog"]
[all those constitute a sin-related context]
but I'm a bored hundido that's leashed (hundido that's leashed)
bark like crazy with lines of texts I indite
that's what the reallity makes me feel like
autocracies' po[ɑ]litics make ill will rise (rise)
yeah, diving into music or some on-screen type
of entertainment can help an ill mind
to feel fine (somewhat), but that's just a ****-time (**** time)
almost nothing vis-a-vis a thrill ride
guess we all need some real high
as if we've climbed atop a prodigious cliff, right? (real high)
yeah, with this pretty skilled mind (lyrics-wise)
["pretty" in the sense of "somewhat", not "very"]
I'm like a demi-go[ɑ]d when I rhyme
A̲[ɑ]lthough sometimes
I feel so worthless & **[ɑ]llow, just like
words of someO̲ne full of lies, so wonder not why
I want to have some power sometimes
not the one of a ty—**** or a high-qualified
gunfighter backed by an army of private sublime
gunfighters; but if I̲ had such might
[on the second thought, who the hell would mind having it?]
[and that's the main humankind problem]
[given that humans seem to be highly evolved animals]
to utili̲ze, I'd not try to become the tyrant-like type
[the "lize, I'd" part is supposed to be read/pronounced as "luyzad"]
of ruler (no); it's said justice is blind
but I'm vigilante-like in my mind (vigilante-like)
so the justice of mine is more like an eye for an eye
evil must be punished, I side
with Rorschach, A̲[ɑ]lthough, as I
mentioned in one of my lines, in mY̲ judgement, vice
to apply is alright when you fight
["going against baddies with vice"]
against greater evil; I give nO̲[ɑ]t a ****, like
a dental clinic with a budget unhigh
["dam"]
if somebO̲[ɑ]dy upright's not fine with what I'm
about to say, but, po[ɑ]litics-wise, my mind's satisfied
when a power-corrupted sheisser'***** by
a ****** dO̲wnfall & I
know 'bout it, whether it's a confinement behind
bars or a violent demise (or something else unfortunate)
depending on crimes realized (crimes)
by them; all the ******-handed tyrants are quite
deserving of sU̲ch things, besides
their cold-hearted sidekicks in crime (cold-hearted)
I don't encourage violence, but my
vote goes for a tsar genocide (tsar genocide)
yeah, you barely get penalized in real life
(which is such a shame)
but, like a machine for grinding wood, I've
got you pulverized... in my lines
————————————————————————————————
oh, &, in view of the higher writ lines
there's the final thing I'd
like to mention: ***** auto[ɑ]cracy, like
it's a female tyrant to swive (ha-ha)
[no offense toward women intended, I'm just an entertainer with a wicked mind]

I don’t think it’s fair to ourselves that we humans know we’re fallible, untrustworthy, impulsive, selfish, hormonal creatures
and yet we make huge life decisions over night or in a moment

perhaps based on what you were feeling in those seconds and
not the way you feel tomorrow,
or in six months or even in a few years

how are we supposed to know that’s the right choice?
if we make the wrong one then everyone will tell us how stupid we were for messing it up even though we didn’t know back then how it was going to turn out
how do you trust yourself well enough to know…