This is not poetry, merely an impulsive and a very human declaration of gratitude.
I know I don't say it often, or at all upfront but..
I know I don't say it often, or at all upfront but..
One for the ones who claim to know me. 🍷
you give the ones who actually do quite the laugh.
you give the ones who actually do quite the laugh.
One for the ones who believe in what I'm actually up to.🍷
you are my silent tears of faith.
you are my silent tears of faith.
You know…
the kind of movie they need to make more of is the one where the underdog protagonist comes back from a long, tedious and painstaking adventure sore, aching and changed for good.
the kind of movie they need to make more of is the one where the underdog protagonist comes back from a long, tedious and painstaking adventure sore, aching and changed for good.
Teach me how to live
Teach me how to dance in the waves of life
Teach me how I could stay in the longings and survive.
Teach me how I can cast a net
And fish for my thoughts
Teach me how not to get lost in the deep
Or not to use the word “lost” wrong.
Teach me how to silence
Their thoughts and mine,
Teach me how I’ve seen them wrong and lose myself right.
Teach me how to hold still
Teach me how to attack
Teach me how to let go and walk from a barren land.
Teach me how to
Write, JUST WRITE!
Stop showing me how they’ve failed me and
Teach me how to go easy on myself.
Why can’t I believe I deserve that?
Sometimes that’s what I think about laying in bed, eyes wide open, do I deserve my own love and attention? Do I? Do I? Do I?
A sleepless night, haunted by my faults and dreams that never made it out.
I never want to be captive of my own ego, trapped in my own voice and false solitude for I have seen my self without divine thoughts and deeds.
I cry out when is it going to be enough, to be lost in a drowning heart, eyes blinded by jealousy and hate, ears muffled by my self and I, I, I , legs longing to go somewhere they are not even sure that exists, hands pointing to failure, pain and shame, looking down for the wrong reasons but the most hurtful amongst the reign of a poisonous supremacy is the regret.
Because you see regret is like a broken piece of glass, a blade with no handle you plunge into yourself then hurt twice. It’s a time bomb that sets off again, one small drop in the greatest alchemical laboratory is enough to make you regret ever being good in your best days. It poisons your present using your past you once considered good.
I cry out when will it be enough, because I don't want to be wrong about you, because the truths I had seen in you were the florescence in the depths of the shallow oasis of you and I. I cry out because I’m done putting a blade in to myself once in mistrust, and twice hurting my hands in a thoughtless anger leading to falling on my knees in sorrow until.... regret is done haunting my corpse only to be freed by remorse and remembrance.
I stood back up once more and promised it would be the last time and uttered the words that promise to hurt me more than it hurt you, words that bring me justice at the price of fairness, words I thought I would never say to someone like you, you piece of undeserving, worthless pile of unholy shit…
Thank you for making me.
Teach me how to dance in the waves of life
Teach me how I could stay in the longings and survive.
Teach me how I can cast a net
And fish for my thoughts
Teach me how not to get lost in the deep
Or not to use the word “lost” wrong.
Teach me how to silence
Their thoughts and mine,
Teach me how I’ve seen them wrong and lose myself right.
Teach me how to hold still
Teach me how to attack
Teach me how to let go and walk from a barren land.
Teach me how to
Write, JUST WRITE!
Stop showing me how they’ve failed me and
Teach me how to go easy on myself.
Why can’t I believe I deserve that?
Sometimes that’s what I think about laying in bed, eyes wide open, do I deserve my own love and attention? Do I? Do I? Do I?
A sleepless night, haunted by my faults and dreams that never made it out.
I never want to be captive of my own ego, trapped in my own voice and false solitude for I have seen my self without divine thoughts and deeds.
I cry out when is it going to be enough, to be lost in a drowning heart, eyes blinded by jealousy and hate, ears muffled by my self and I, I, I , legs longing to go somewhere they are not even sure that exists, hands pointing to failure, pain and shame, looking down for the wrong reasons but the most hurtful amongst the reign of a poisonous supremacy is the regret.
Because you see regret is like a broken piece of glass, a blade with no handle you plunge into yourself then hurt twice. It’s a time bomb that sets off again, one small drop in the greatest alchemical laboratory is enough to make you regret ever being good in your best days. It poisons your present using your past you once considered good.
I cry out when will it be enough, because I don't want to be wrong about you, because the truths I had seen in you were the florescence in the depths of the shallow oasis of you and I. I cry out because I’m done putting a blade in to myself once in mistrust, and twice hurting my hands in a thoughtless anger leading to falling on my knees in sorrow until.... regret is done haunting my corpse only to be freed by remorse and remembrance.
I stood back up once more and promised it would be the last time and uttered the words that promise to hurt me more than it hurt you, words that bring me justice at the price of fairness, words I thought I would never say to someone like you, you piece of undeserving, worthless pile of unholy shit…
Thank you for making me.
time's prisoner
waiting to take a step back to realign where I belong
a place I totally invented.
A place we invented.
A place we were born into.
A place with no escape.
In the grand chaos of everything,
hope seems to find a way.
When its that time again and I single out myself once more,
I turn to the irony of hoping to hope, and watch it do all the work.
waiting to take a step back to realign where I belong
a place I totally invented.
A place we invented.
A place we were born into.
A place with no escape.
In the grand chaos of everything,
hope seems to find a way.
When its that time again and I single out myself once more,
I turn to the irony of hoping to hope, and watch it do all the work.
Love me when it best suits you.
You'll never know my depth.
I'll hide behind my mask until one day
I see blood from your eyes.
That is my rage. I will hide it well with a smile.
You will always see a compilation of an erratic little boy
who knew long ago he means nothing to this world,
thinking - to save his life, saddened the world couldn't come with.
That is my humility. I am proud of every tear;
the reflection of the morality I was gifted from you.
You will never understand the love I have for this world and you.
You'll never know my depth.
I'll hide behind my mask until one day
I see blood from your eyes.
That is my rage. I will hide it well with a smile.
You will always see a compilation of an erratic little boy
who knew long ago he means nothing to this world,
thinking - to save his life, saddened the world couldn't come with.
That is my humility. I am proud of every tear;
the reflection of the morality I was gifted from you.
You will never understand the love I have for this world and you.
❤3
I can't thank you guys enough for the comments! Your support is everything.
And I'm really glad you found yourselves within the story. I honestly thought that part would be difficult but I was surprised to see how many of you could relate.
Thank you.
💙
Incase you haven't read it.
And I'm really glad you found yourselves within the story. I honestly thought that part would be difficult but I was surprised to see how many of you could relate.
Thank you.
💙
Incase you haven't read it.
❤4👍1