No words to fix it.
No people to change it.
No hope left to ever be anything more
Emptier than the compassion in your body,
Emptier than the love in your heart,
Emptier than the bottle in your hand.
There’s nothing anymore.
No point in continuing.
So I’ll take my leave now.
I’ll finally walk away.
But when I’m gone,
You will never be anything more
Neverland is real.
The second star to the right,
Straight on to morning.
But they don’t tell you
That there is no guarantee
You’ll survive the night.
I try to write my feelings down
In a string of well-thought-out words.
With a moral at the end,
As though I actually learned from it.
Yet each time I find myself here
Pulling catchy phrases out of thin air,
Inadequately representing exactly how I feel at that moment.
But at least it’s pretty, right?
As long as some beauty weaves its way through your pain,
It’s like it doesn’t even matter.
But in countless poems,
And the countless cliche morals that accompany them,
It’s safe to say I’ve learned nothing.
Masked by the darkness
We move on to the shadows
Mischief is about.
Our silent movements
Aid the presence of evil.
Always fear the dark.
Maybe they’re right.
Maybe perfection is attainable.
Maybe I’m the farthest thing from it.
Maybe there is a “perfect time,”
Or a “perfect girl.”
But maybe they’re wrong.
Maybe there’s no standard.
Maybe everybody has somebody.
Maybe our “perfect time” is every second that we spend waiting for it.
Maybe you have imperfections,
And maybe I do too.
But maybe, just maybe, that’s ok.
The nightmares are starting to return.
Sleep is lost in the hours I’ve spent suppressing them;
Holding back the monsters bursting through the darkness.
They seep into my brain,
Leaving bombs in my memories.
The countdown is unknown,
But the explosion is inevitable.
Widespread chaos will infiltrate every corner of my mind.
The blast can be heard for miles..
The pain and grief will eventually subside,
And in their place comes a series of aftershocks.
Each slightly less painful than the last.
Until, one day, when sleep will again find me.
But that day is not today.
Life is changing like the seasons.
Constantly renewing a world beginning to stagnate.
Holding on to the last shreds of character left to define it.
The sky gets dark;
The leaves fall;
The wilderness retreats.
But the world will keep spinning…
The days will pass,
The tides will change.
And without fail:
The sky will brighten;
The leaves will grow new;
And the wilderness will return.
Life is changing like the seasons
And with it I am reborn.
The night was dark.
The woods we walked through together left no sign that we would live to see morning.
Into the echoes, hand-in-hand, we endured.
We lived to sunrise.
Engulfed in your presence, we spent the day living like it would never end.
Our love seemed like the only thing that mattered.
Until the sun started to set.
Until you walked back into the woods to save the next helpless girl.
Until you uttered a solemn “take care” and left me to watch you walk away
Like nothing mattered.
I just wish I hadn’t walked back into the woods….
Lost and defeated
Like a bottle to sea
Conveying a message of emptiness.
An empty vessel
To wash ashore.
To take someone’s breath away
Return a message of hope
I need it to matter.
The annual burn has fallen upon us.
Our people are beginning to perish.
The fire will take them, and down they’ll fall
And there our people lay;
Their bodies will dry as the moisture drains,
And there the dead lay;
The others will come invade our lands
And walk all over our hallowed tomb.
And there the shriveled lay;
Now the western wind blows over us
And as tradition goes,
Their bodies and souls will lift from our grounds
And the crumpled will cease to lay.