It’s funny…growing up. Every day, I see a little bit more of my parents, a little more of their humanity. They’re kids, just like me—they don’t know what they’re doing. They do what they can and hope for the best. It’s a bit scary sometimes..
What am I to this big, big world?
l think about my friends often too…even the old ones. I think about where they are now, compare myself to them almost all the time. I focus on their failures and mine. I have a hard time looking past anybody’s. But then again, who doesn’t?
I want to do right in my life. That’s been the story of my history.
And I hope I am.
I really do.
This canvas is a bit old, but it’ll do.
Don’t worry about those clouds—
that hurricane is more like rain.
They’re light splatters,
light brush strokes.
And it’ll take more than some anger,
some crimson red
some sad, dark, dark blue
to change what I’ve painted for you
I’m so foolish.
I say one thing—and, feel another.
I promise some things, and sometimes,
do nothing.
If you could wrap all of life in a neat, little box
I’d be the one without the lid,
mushed on its side,
with a potato inside.
She came first, he replied second.
Back and forth, we rapidly went, till we spun into a haze.
Higher we went, taller we climbed,
Till suddenly, we were at peak’s edge.
And the view was so glorious, and the height so tremendous,
I think it would’ve taken all of Eternity to fall back down.
But one of us fell,
one of us slipped.
Some say she pushed, some say he pulled,
somedays it changes. It doesn’t really matter.
They hit the ground, the other took off running.
There were other mountains waiting.
You give me a glance, a tease, a pull, a tug.
Fun for a little while, you stop after a little while,
hurts for the longest time,
Cause a couple days later you forget everything,
like history could be bled out and erased.
I thought it’d be one or the other, friend or lover,
never the stranger again.
Couple weeks later you need someone to get you by,
A toy, a fancy, a plaything—I’m the puppet, you’re the master.
But I was also your friend.
and you used, abused,
tore something out that hasn’t quite been the same.
That made you colder, made me crueler,
now two are playing that game.
Because if what they say is true, an eye for an eye is just what I want:
I’ll leave the whole fucking world blind cause of you.
Somedays I wish I could take all of human existence,
and crumple it,
in a small, small paper ball.
Maybe I’ll squeeze disappointment out,
hide it away in the creases,
mashing failure together with the second-place winners
right next to shame, sitting atop envy, where anger resides,
in the folds of my crumpled paper ball.
Whether through pride or shame—I can’t really say.
We’ll weather many years to try and make sense,
of a world that leaves us wondering,
Who we’ll turn out to be.
And then she said, then they said I was the sinner, some sinner, they sin, then they walk, peace, peace, then death, death..
Then death, death,
And sin, sin
I can’t find this peace, peace.
Please, please. I don’t think I’m strong enough to find this,
This peace.
I’ve lost 5 days to this, this,
Thoughts I can’t control over,
Because maybe I’m not the person I wanted to be—
What if we can never go back?
What if the mistakes you made, are really just,
an endless loop of songs you’re bound to repeat?
What if we never changed?
What if a sinner couldn’t be saved?
