If only you’d said what I wanted to hear
I may have been relieved of the pain, may have been delivered
But it is not to be, I have had to lie
Hide myself from you, because you don’t seem to be you.
A shadow of someone I once knew
It’s a tragedy, its a farce, it’s something that has finally gone, at long last
It’s irretrievable and it’s not okay for you, I still grieve, I still care
And if it weren’t for my ego, I may just have dropped to my knees and washed out the garbage
Were it not for your cold skin, I may just have had a smile on my face
Seeking some peace, if I ever asked for help, you’d refuse and smile and tell me it’s nothing
It’s nothing to you, it’s something to me and it’s more than what I can handle today
With hope in my eyes
I cling to the past, loving the ruins
An object of my affections
Like a clock, right on time, quickly scrolling to a point, I wait and hold my breath as the page loads
I see, sigh in relief, as I mark the day and the attendance of a view and am satisfied for the day
That something is in my favour, that swimming against the stream will pay off someday
And I see and count again and stare at the map, as I trace my fingers along the edges, like it’s your face
Somehow, in this desolate existence, I find my solace.
See the bodies swaying to the beats, see the blood running on the streets
This blood is not going to trickle away, this blood is not cheap
It’s a price, a price we have to pay for the bigotry of our leaders, here to stay
Slit the wrists, turn protectors against the people, choke the very fabric that keeps us together
But there is always one rat that will nibble on the net and set everyone free
Call us rats, or anti-nationals, as Shakespeare says: What’s in a name?
For the one I am standing up for, I am the angel to guard their honour
In any attire. Strip me of everything, I’m still a human
But it’s not what you see.
What comes after heartbreak? What is left after an unrequited love?
Loving each other without possession, loving despite the distance, despite the heartbreak
Keeping faith, not letting go of the whisp of yesterday
A high kind of love. A test of time. True love.
You are a distant dream, a fading memory, a silly old crinkly paper rolled at the foot of the bed, not of use
A river, that slowing makes its way, through the ragged mountains, valleys and into the stream
Your memory carves out my mind, like a saw, it curves it’s path, roughing the edges
I watch in torment. Silent in my plight, like the petrified child in the darkness of the room
Screaming into the pillow of half-woven words of love, unrequited
Unbent, and unbroken, I still stand tall. Appearances. *Shrug* what can I say so you’d believe me?
I’m a sad, ragged doll of no use. Just like your memories, stowed away into the corners of my mind, of no use.
Life is hard. Circumstances are harder. What is it that life is leading us towards? I often wonder why we go through suffering if death is inevitable.
Death is inevitable, it’s coming for us. And why are we so glad for a designated end?
Why, for some of us, is death a form of respite, promised at the end of a dark tunnel?
Death is a dear friend for whom we are waiting eagerly, watching, hoping for a quick withdrawal.
And to think, one person or an incident can drop you a whole level and make you beg for release
Life is a punishment to those who are aware. A burden to bear.
Rip apart the soul, see what’s inside and tell me if I’m lying.
I’m bent, wings clipped, an empty vase, that I wish I could fill.