I couldn't figure out what was wrong with me. I kept swirling, dreaming, and wishing around these impossible thoughts; and every time my heart nearly skipped a beat. I was completely lost. There could be no way to find me, until i found myself, and allowed the world to see my hidden secret. I was in love with him.
I knew that once I would be wrapped up in his incredible grasp, my world would fall into its imperfect place. I knew that once he touched me with the gift of desirable love, i would never be found here on earth.
I have never felt so whole, yet so incomplete; so innocent, yet so guilty. Never have i felt so much love in such a small heart.
I felt like a fool for falling for the most perfect imperfection. His beauty captured me in ways unimaginable to those who breath.
There is no going back, and no escaping from what actually and finally came to be. I could never be myself again because every time he touched me, he walked away with a piece of my heart.
Friday, July 18, 2008
Wednesday, July 16, 2008
To think like myself
A woman always told me that life is not what it seems to be. She said one day i will wake up to realize that this was never a dream. That i walk, breath, talk and look like every other human being on earth, and that no matter what nothing will change that. She was right. I walk, look, speak, and breath just like everyone else, but that does not make me to be like everyone else. I am looked at and compared to the person next to me, when i am absolutly nothing like him. My eyes tell a greater story and my thoughts only scream to be different, but no one seems to notice.
Strange. Everyone is so consumed inside the idea of "no difference" that nothing is changing inside. Everyone is trapped inside another thought that their own cannot break free. It is truly amazing.
Amazing is the perfect way to describe the stupidity and thoughtlessness of those who stalk this planet eveyone calls earth. there is such and attraction to be just like her, to think just like her, talk like her, when there is nothing, and every part of the body, every spark in every thought compares absolutly nothing to hers. Why be like her, when she is everyone else?
I was once a little child, who desired to be the twin of my so called best friend, when one day i realized that no one would know my name. And when the woman told me i was to be just like my neighbour, just like my teacher, that i was to be of this world and everyone esle who was a part of this place they so called home, i refused to believe her. I could not allow her words to invite themselves in comfortably, and convinced me that i was a nothing because everyone else was like me, and i was like everyone else.
i could feel deep inside a spark of some kind telling me that i was the only one. that there could be no other me. and no matter how hard i tried to be like the world, i could not bring myself to be just like them.
Strange. Everyone is so consumed inside the idea of "no difference" that nothing is changing inside. Everyone is trapped inside another thought that their own cannot break free. It is truly amazing.
Amazing is the perfect way to describe the stupidity and thoughtlessness of those who stalk this planet eveyone calls earth. there is such and attraction to be just like her, to think just like her, talk like her, when there is nothing, and every part of the body, every spark in every thought compares absolutly nothing to hers. Why be like her, when she is everyone else?
I was once a little child, who desired to be the twin of my so called best friend, when one day i realized that no one would know my name. And when the woman told me i was to be just like my neighbour, just like my teacher, that i was to be of this world and everyone esle who was a part of this place they so called home, i refused to believe her. I could not allow her words to invite themselves in comfortably, and convinced me that i was a nothing because everyone else was like me, and i was like everyone else.
i could feel deep inside a spark of some kind telling me that i was the only one. that there could be no other me. and no matter how hard i tried to be like the world, i could not bring myself to be just like them.
I Am
I walk among you. I maybe the One sitting in the corner. Or I Am the bird that glares at you through the window. I see you. I look at with passion in My eyes. But your head is always turning away. I've tried to touch you, but My Hand only slips past you. Sometimes I hear you call My name, I see your tears, and I hold you. Then instead of turning to smile, you turn to laugh, and walk away.
I might be the One who kisses you goodnight. I can even be the stranger you choose to ignore, but you look at Me, and you know I'm there. I watch you from a distance, and I admire you. Many times, you choose to tell them that you don't know who I Am. And then you cry the same lonely night, and I Am crying next to you.
Maybe I'm that dog you see every day. Sometimes I can be the butterfly that lands on your nose. I could be the little kid that wants to be your friend. I Am the guilt that dwells in your body, after you have abandoned everything that ever meant most to Me. Despite the anger, the hate, and the unforgiving, I still hold an unconditional love for you in My heart. I still wait for you to turn around and see Me.
I might be the One who kisses you goodnight. I can even be the stranger you choose to ignore, but you look at Me, and you know I'm there. I watch you from a distance, and I admire you. Many times, you choose to tell them that you don't know who I Am. And then you cry the same lonely night, and I Am crying next to you.
Maybe I'm that dog you see every day. Sometimes I can be the butterfly that lands on your nose. I could be the little kid that wants to be your friend. I Am the guilt that dwells in your body, after you have abandoned everything that ever meant most to Me. Despite the anger, the hate, and the unforgiving, I still hold an unconditional love for you in My heart. I still wait for you to turn around and see Me.
Beauty in the dark
His eyes are piercing me. I am a prisoner, I cannot escape. It can't stop. They keep calling my name, haunting, begging, and pleading for me to keep looking. I'm mezmorized. I can't stop. I find myself drowning, unable to reach the surface, when I look into his eyes. The air is stripped from my body when I am wrapped in this amazing place. I want to cry and scream for something to come save me, but I am unable to open my lips and simply sing. I find myself in such an erotic sense. My body yearns for this, but my mind says no. My mind is attempting with every bit it has to stop, to break free and remove myself from this persuasion. But I cannot let go. I am unable to tear from this. Unable realize that I have been consumed in something so powerful, I no longer exist in my own sense, but that I am somewhere else.
Tuesday, July 15, 2008
She is a liar
She's a liar. A hypocrite that stalks down the halls of her school, with a fake smile painted across her face. Her friends love her, teachers adore her, and boys drool over her. She's not what people think. She hides a deep secret, buried with in her heart, aching with ever passing day. She thinks she's a nobody
Her grades in school are decent. She doesn't know if she wants to go to college. She attends church with her family every Sunday, prays for God to take her life, and still, no response. Even though she wears a cross around her neck, she doesn't believe God hears her.
Friends admire her, and think she lives a "perfect" life, but she knows her friends are the ones dwelling in paradise. She walks around school acting like a princess, when she feels like caged bird, living in her own prison. People see her as a somebody.
She lives in a hell. With a stepmother always abusing her and a father regularly raping her. She lives a life far from perfect. She has no brothers and no sisters, but she keeps a serpent in her closet. She wants death.
Her friends lover her parents and enjoy the house. Parents put on a plastic smile to play along with their paper life. Their life runs like Shakespeare play.
She's a tall young lady. Takes good care of herself, dresses properly, and uses appropiate language. She dates to find comfort and hide from her real world, but no boy can understand the pain she faces. Running aways was attemped, but failed. Her life is secretive.
She's embarrassed of herself. When she looks in the mirror she sees a dirty, filty, disobedient person. Yet she is completely the oppisite. She tires the best at everthing she does, but still, she feels like a failure.
She's never been congradulated on her work, studies, or exams. Her parents never tell her they love her and never have. She prays for them everynight, asks God to forgive them. She's always told she's worthless, no use, and a waste of space. Committing suiside is not an answer for her. She might doubt herself, yet she deep down feels the need to live. But she's still trying to find what it is she's living for.
Her grades in school are decent. She doesn't know if she wants to go to college. She attends church with her family every Sunday, prays for God to take her life, and still, no response. Even though she wears a cross around her neck, she doesn't believe God hears her.
Friends admire her, and think she lives a "perfect" life, but she knows her friends are the ones dwelling in paradise. She walks around school acting like a princess, when she feels like caged bird, living in her own prison. People see her as a somebody.
She lives in a hell. With a stepmother always abusing her and a father regularly raping her. She lives a life far from perfect. She has no brothers and no sisters, but she keeps a serpent in her closet. She wants death.
Her friends lover her parents and enjoy the house. Parents put on a plastic smile to play along with their paper life. Their life runs like Shakespeare play.
She's a tall young lady. Takes good care of herself, dresses properly, and uses appropiate language. She dates to find comfort and hide from her real world, but no boy can understand the pain she faces. Running aways was attemped, but failed. Her life is secretive.
She's embarrassed of herself. When she looks in the mirror she sees a dirty, filty, disobedient person. Yet she is completely the oppisite. She tires the best at everthing she does, but still, she feels like a failure.
She's never been congradulated on her work, studies, or exams. Her parents never tell her they love her and never have. She prays for them everynight, asks God to forgive them. She's always told she's worthless, no use, and a waste of space. Committing suiside is not an answer for her. She might doubt herself, yet she deep down feels the need to live. But she's still trying to find what it is she's living for.
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