Lingering roundabouts of hurt, guessing games & preconceived blames like "This is probably why"s aside, the mind thinks what it wants to think. After all, sharp stones hurt less than a dull pebble.
❤2
I try.
But things that you wouldn't even guess I was trying. Maybe some of you do. Maybe you can see how hard I try and I don't mind.
I try hard not to be the pretentious guy you skip with a look,
I try hard not to show you a life I don't have and even harder not to rub my success.
I try hard not to be that guy who lowkey tells you his agenda, his motto, mask it with Sunday cloths or a handpicked outfit I've been obsessing over.
I try hard not to show you that I've made it and continue to do so, I try hard not to explain my life or my decisions and try even harder not to show you how wrong you are about me. I try hard to just go along with whoever you think I am and play the character infront of you so you don't have to change your mind.
I try hard not to make my life unique and difficult so you see how untouchable I am, infact I show you my human side, the one that fails, feels and obsesses.
I try hard not to get lost while I'm trying, lose myself trying to show you who I am, without really showing you who I am.
I try harder for only a few I love and cherish and only they can see how weak I am because you'll only see the "funny one whom you can't pin down" while they see a simple boy trying hard for what he cares about.
Just remember I'm trying, for myself.
But things that you wouldn't even guess I was trying. Maybe some of you do. Maybe you can see how hard I try and I don't mind.
I try hard not to be the pretentious guy you skip with a look,
I try hard not to show you a life I don't have and even harder not to rub my success.
I try hard not to be that guy who lowkey tells you his agenda, his motto, mask it with Sunday cloths or a handpicked outfit I've been obsessing over.
I try hard not to show you that I've made it and continue to do so, I try hard not to explain my life or my decisions and try even harder not to show you how wrong you are about me. I try hard to just go along with whoever you think I am and play the character infront of you so you don't have to change your mind.
I try hard not to make my life unique and difficult so you see how untouchable I am, infact I show you my human side, the one that fails, feels and obsesses.
I try hard not to get lost while I'm trying, lose myself trying to show you who I am, without really showing you who I am.
I try harder for only a few I love and cherish and only they can see how weak I am because you'll only see the "funny one whom you can't pin down" while they see a simple boy trying hard for what he cares about.
Just remember I'm trying, for myself.
❤7
Being the bad guy who hurts people seems easier than a good one that takes on the world, doesn't it?
💔2❤1
No hour for foolishness.
Speak to me, and you shall see,
if fault rests on me
for the red you spit,
for your once joy & ecstasy
now turned the games you seed.
Play with me, do what you please,
I can rain down hellfire
without remorse and flee.
Yet still, I keep my hands clean.
Speak to me, and you shall see,
if fault rests on me
for the red you spit,
for your once joy & ecstasy
now turned the games you seed.
Play with me, do what you please,
I can rain down hellfire
without remorse and flee.
Yet still, I keep my hands clean.
❤1😁1
Promises Promises,
You talk about what is said, as time went by and calmness settled, the reality was brighter than a desperate attempt to fix everything.
He saw, with his eyes and heart, the darkness in men who turned their back when he needed a hand - for his spirit. Smiling broken, he wiped his tears and worked his way up but never forgotten that damed day he saw his mother down. (and boy do I not mean sad 😏)
You deserve less than nothing. You deserve pain and suffering. But he learned as much as he could about forgiveness cause his heart can't carry that much weight from loss. You think he's unbothered - while he cried at night to let go of anger and sorrow in his heart.
You still expect? From him? When he gave everything? ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING? Know his side. Come and ask what they failed to see in the sight of light they chose to let go so easily and he forgave. But he never forgot.
To the wegentegna that never bothered to ask.
You talk about what is said, as time went by and calmness settled, the reality was brighter than a desperate attempt to fix everything.
He saw, with his eyes and heart, the darkness in men who turned their back when he needed a hand - for his spirit. Smiling broken, he wiped his tears and worked his way up but never forgotten that damed day he saw his mother down. (and boy do I not mean sad 😏)
You deserve less than nothing. You deserve pain and suffering. But he learned as much as he could about forgiveness cause his heart can't carry that much weight from loss. You think he's unbothered - while he cried at night to let go of anger and sorrow in his heart.
You still expect? From him? When he gave everything? ABSOLUTELY EVERYTHING? Know his side. Come and ask what they failed to see in the sight of light they chose to let go so easily and he forgave. But he never forgot.
To the wegentegna that never bothered to ask.
❤5
"Sight-seekers, armed with borrowed keys, pry at reflections, forcing meaning through their own windows."
Let them.
❤1💯1
Soft mattresses, pillows, and dolls
It's in the eyes, they say, what lies in the heart. A mirror reflecting the fumes of a chest longing for breath without the thoughts of its final one.
In my case, some learned to morph their eyes so they may live in peace. But no one knows.
They try brute force with what they know to see, look within the eye through theirs, and delude themselves. I used to say, let them entertain themselves. But now, breaths have started going short. Every inhale had tones of their perfume, and every longed-for exhale, muted.
And the heart starts crawling out of the iris for fresh air, to be heard, and to vent out to the sky. But the lungs are out of air. Any hope to hold the breath to make it to the sky and back is cut short, and legs are tied to a stone weight.
Ones who learned to morph to cope don't choose to run. They make peace with their hidden eyes, break the stone, and make a bed out of it to rest. And another set of eyes, who've never seen their attempt to jump into the sky, claim their bed into submission and compare it to what they've been sleeping on.
It's in the eyes, they say, what lies in the heart. A mirror reflecting the fumes of a chest longing for breath without the thoughts of its final one.
In my case, some learned to morph their eyes so they may live in peace. But no one knows.
They try brute force with what they know to see, look within the eye through theirs, and delude themselves. I used to say, let them entertain themselves. But now, breaths have started going short. Every inhale had tones of their perfume, and every longed-for exhale, muted.
And the heart starts crawling out of the iris for fresh air, to be heard, and to vent out to the sky. But the lungs are out of air. Any hope to hold the breath to make it to the sky and back is cut short, and legs are tied to a stone weight.
Ones who learned to morph to cope don't choose to run. They make peace with their hidden eyes, break the stone, and make a bed out of it to rest. And another set of eyes, who've never seen their attempt to jump into the sky, claim their bed into submission and compare it to what they've been sleeping on.