Where will your pride take you?
Beware,
You’re riding on the waves of your ego.
Know this,
Even the waves has an end
Short lived, sporadic sprouts of force
But to what end?!
Flat and deprived of life.
For a moment.
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Quicksand
The ground on which you stand,
connects us all, you and me.
A tiny piece I caved, a strong hold
made by me, for us.
Perfectly curated and maintained,
held onto tightly,
even against the tides,
but the grips are burning.
Can’t hold on much longer,
Can you hold the reins for a while?
Dead eyes
Oh to have lived!
Can’t you see, we are nothing
Life is fleeting,
Right before your dead eyes.
Won’t you wake up?!
Spring has sprung, the flowers are pretty again.
Even harsh waves still makes an exquisite picture.
Speak to me
You are barely living
Tell me you want more
This too shall pass, I promise.
Hold on to what you believed, just like you told me.
Remember when we lived life
The feeling of youthful bliss, cascading.
This sadness is a chore, my friend
there are holes in all of us,
but we must carry on.
Fog
Wait!
If you get too close
and am not how you hoped,
forgive my deceit.
I was raised with little love
scared to life, scared to be
So, I show what you might like.
A facade, is all.
Am running back up the hills now, do not try to follow me.
I wanna stand here and whisper
As I should.
Go that way,
I will take the long way down
I will find my way around.
I saw a glimpse and I don’t like what I see,
The dissonance is draining, so
Am going back in, into myself
Basking in my solitude, sublime!
It takes a while to come back out,
So don’t hold your breath.
If i was a writer, i would write tragedies!
“This world is a comedy to those that think, a tragedy to those that feel.”
Horace Walpole
In a dark room with surround sound music, playing alternative/indie music. Sitting in your favorite spot, relaxed, eyes closed and a little tipsy.
Peace/Torture
Why?
“Man is least himself when he talks in his own person. Give him a mask, and he will tell you the truth.” Oscar Wilde
Was it because I stood up to the man in the mirror,
I thought it get better from there.
Was it because I stop listening to the voices,
it was unfriendly.
Was it because I started smiling,
sadness is a chore.
Tell me why, I deserve to know
or do you just miss sipping from the cup of broken me?
Why take it away?
Now Piper does of babel,
and you fucking ibis’s take note!
Made of glass
Fragile mind
I don’t want to be described as strong or virtuous or any adjective that more or less describes the subtle art of perfecting suffering.
Middle Ground
“I never liked the middle ground-the most boring place in the world.”
Louise Berliawsky Nevelson
I have fallen in love with the middle ground
my soul paid the price,
not by choice, I must say
the pressure of just being.
I reckon, I have heard someone say “the middle is the best.“
The safest, at-least
right?!
What a coward I have become,
twisting the definition of brave to liberate myself.
Hoping some positives comes from this chaos,
thank God for small miracles, and move on.
Some people have it worse, I hear
So, be thankful for the middle ground.
Ahh, damn it
damn it all to hell, am taking that step
Am holding a banner for me,
its upside down, but look past that
as i peacefully wait to be pulled swiftly,
right into the dissonance.
GallopingCrazy 