Life comes so suddenly,
Capturing you before you know it.
Love, ambition, hope, fear.
A test of everything you hold dear.
There comes a time when things, only happen in the past,
And everything is too good to last.
A time when you are left with more memories than you can hold,
And you speak of life as an adventure untold.
A moment of victory and sorrow,
And all you want is another life to borrow.
Familiar faces fade away,
In a rear view mirror that has too much to say.
People come and they go, but these streets never change.
It’s no wonder that memory is a lane.
I write away my sorrow
It is the only way I know.
Spilling ink thicker than blood.
Leaving behind words in place of scars.
They said, Be the change and the world will follow.
I pretend to be reborn.
I tell myself that I am the change.
And the world did follow,
On Instagram to mock at my expense.
Some people see a few familiar faces and call it home.
What if I need to look at hearts and not faces?
When I look through those chunks of rock
Will I still be able to tell them apart?
This mind of mine colourfully black and white,
Scatters them into piles of two
They all judge me for my depth
Some look at my pockets and some my poetry.
A tiny speck of dust, I, float in measureless oceans of space. All I am is a vacant stare amidst a seemingly sophisticated world where I will never belong. Lost in a trance in a crowd doing the happy dance. Will faking a smile earn me an offer to stay? I never think twice about the price I’ve had to pay. Yes there was once a time when I would have liked to be understood. The time when I gave up reality for delusion, endorsing a new attitude and a made up passion. You see, the safety of monotony can mask the missing happiness.
Perhaps I will
Be a little out of the ordinary.
Pursue dreams, dreams of changing the world.
Put passion before goals.
Love all of life; as it it is; whole.
The words our souls bleed, bandaged every day. For the world would be too quick to judge anything you had to say. It’s a free world, without freedom of expression or thought. And a life that rhymes with irony more often than not.
They say this is where inspiration comes to die. Past the dreaded deadline, not a soul has ever made it. One after another they all went into a bottomless pit.. I asked myself, “Dear heart, what about you? Has all this hassle left you down and blue?” Fear not for there is always a choice. Venture out to tread new waters or go over the line another undead carcass. All of life spent in a philosophical stride only to end in literary suicide. Perhaps there is a way, another way. I could be the one to learn the trade and still stay in touch with reality and keep my soul. What if I could actually pull off inventing that role?
Words are all I had and he took them from me. It drove me insane, not knowing what to say; to just stare in awe and adoration. All of a sudden there was something I loved more than myself.
I remember it all. How he looked into my eyes, like we were the only people in the world; the sound of his voice…his laugh. It’s the kinda laugh that reminds you of the good things in life. He didn’t just give my heart wings, he made me want to fly. Flying is not so scary when I know I’ve got him to catch me when I fall.