Category: 08th

Why I’m Here.
Sometimes I look into
The mirror and wonder why
I’m here. Maybe for smiles
Or laughs or cries yet I know I’m here
For something. But what?

I sit and wonder all this time,
But I still sit and wonder why?
Maybe for sports or school,
Yet that’s not why.

Then I sit and think for
A good long time and
Realize why I’m here.
Maybe for emotions, sports, or
Education, but the real truth is everything.
Your human you do all and that is why God
Put you here on this earth, So you can do it all.

So yeah sometimes I look into
The mirror and wonder why
I’m here.

My mind is always wandering.
Back to when I was younger…
When I was small.
What I’ll be when I’m older…
What will I do as an adult?
Will I make them proud?
Them, my parents.
The reason I succeed in life…
The reason I am here…
The reason I try my hardest…
I wouldn’t be who I am without them.
My mind is always wandering.
Even to the saddest thoughts…
What will life be like when my parents are gone?
Will I still smile?
Or will my personality be gone?
My mind is always wandering…
And it never stops.

I cannot feel Safe here…not anymore
My Home is gone, nothing is left
Not much more I can endure
Love cannot save me

A Ringing…in my head…in my ears
A suffocating feeling, sits –
A plead…that no one hears
Love cannot save me

A Fire kills…everything it can
A weak, small Human has no chance
Then that little Fear…began
Love cannot save me

Restless…Useless…Terrified…in the Dark
Forget what matters, Fire comes quick
You’re scared – of course…it left a mark
Love cannot save me

Love cannot save anyone

Stuff
Things
Such a broad term for such a specific thing
Stuff is the black cat that reminds you of Halloween sitting on your window
Stuff is the blue pen sitting at your desk stark against the brown wood
Stuff is the blood red nail polish in the bathroom
Stuff is the dried flowers hanging in your neighbor’s lawn
Stuff is the old tea bags in the mug that has long since lost its warmth
Stuff is the white pillow sitting on the white bed that hasn’t been slept in for years
Stuff is anything and everything
Stuff is something we all take for granted
Because
We always want more
Always think that we need more
We all give in to wanting until
There is no more stuff
Nothing that you own because you wanted too much
And threw away everything that you owned
You threw away everything that you are
And you have to find yourself again
To finally remember to stop wanting

Infatuation. Fascination.
Passion. It’s
Obsession.

Any way or form.
For that one person it
Sticks in our minds like
Gum on the bottom of a
Shoe.

However hard you try
They’ll always be
There. Waiting
For attention

Waiting
For you to circle back
Around to dwelling on that
powerful

Infatuation. Fascination.
Passion.

Obsession.

It’s the small Moments
that gradually build up
And when you look back
on them,
you realize
they made you who
you are.

You might not think of
it immediately.

It was that time with
friends at lunch
the bus ride
that test that everyone
talked about after.

It’s like they say
You don’t know
the value of a Moment
until it becomes a
Memory.

So many Moments
wasted, back then
But so many
lived out
to their fullest.

Do I regret it?
Not at all.
Because I know
this is me.
This is what has
Shaped me
Formed me
Taught me
Allowed me

Brought me
to who I am today.

I’d do every second
over again
if I could
not changing anything,
because I wouldn’t need to.

What a time we had
to experience all those

Moments
that became
Memories.

She was gone even
Before you thought
To leave.

Saving you both the
Pain of a
Goodbye.

That way the pain
will be virtually
Painless.

It doesn’t work that way
And you both know it.

A river of tears
Flows under
A layer of ice
Indifference.

We build up a wall
As an antibiotic for
the hurt.

It has to be this way.
It always has to end
At some point.

What other way.
It’s so hard to say

Goodbye.

A brief touch
A brush across the hand.
A pat on the shoulder,
Reassuring.

Both sides are nervous.
How far to go?

Never sure, but they
Know they want it.

Take my hand.
Why are you afraid?
It’s not that hard
It’s not that easy, either.

How far to go?
Never sure. So

Tentative.

You’re not there.
Haven’t got it yet.
What happens?

Disappointment spawns
Frustration which spouts
Envy which spews
Anger and
Yet

That thing you need
So desperately

You
Just haven’t seen it yet.

Not a complete thought
A whisper
An unfinished book
Or a rushed plan
A hurried idea

So far but so
close.

It’s
Untouchable.