There’s no one around, no one to see
It seems the world decided to let me be.
I thought I’d feel free with no one around,
No one to make those annoying sounds.
Yet now I find this silence crushing,
I can hear my heart beating, my blood rushing.
It feels like this silence will tear me apart,
My thoughts, my mind, even my heart.
I must find a way out of this silent place,
I panic, I run, from the silence I race.
Yet as far as I run there’s no one to find.
No one to save me from this place in my mind.
Can’t breathe, I can’t breathe.
This overwhelming panic has me on my knees.
Looking up at the sky praying please Lord, please make it stop,
I can’t take it anymore it feels like my heart is about to pop.
One more surge of panic feels like the end.
Then bury me and to heaven, my soul send.
I can hear the devil laugh as I gasp and strain,
Laughing at my fear and this growing pain.
This perpetual anxiety just won’t let me be,
So release my soul and set me free.
Free to arrive at another hellscape,
Perhaps this fear I won’t ever escape.
Hell! That’s what I’m going to write about.
The mess that was the hollow shell of my life, all the things my family had to put up with.
Sure I have issues, everyone does, but what’s left of my conscience leaves me with guilt.
It’s kind of ironic, the sadomasochistic nut feeling guilty for causing pain; however,
watching someone falling into the bottomless pit of misery is a pain no one should have to feel.
When I’m falling, how do I know what watching feels like?
When you lose sight of the stars, of your dreams, you know you’ve found hell.
You see yourself and all you’ve sunk into and you hate it.
Over time the hate of the situation turns to self-hatred, you despise what you’ve become.
You look for ways to make it better, lashing out when people try to take you from the “fix”.
The thing that dulls the pain it’s not a fix. That thing that dulls the pain is not a fix.
That thing is a mask, hiding your misery from yourself just like you hide it from everyone else
The pain of falling into nothing, you’re sure it is worse than death.
Why don’t you give in and die?!!
Not your pain this time. Even in the dark the heart can shine.
You live so others won’t know the pain
You live for your family and friends
You live for everyone who would suffer if you ended your life.
Without love it will kill you.
There! you see another star
After sooo much pain;
There is light again
There are so many things I can’t remember.
Did they slip my mind, or did I want to forget?
I never know if I should look for them.
What if it’s too painful to hold?
Should I drop it like a burning coal into the depths?
or should I hold it tightly?
Can I make a diamond from fire?
Can I hold onto the ones that are good?
With so many things lost, where do I look first?
There are so many places for them to hide.
I think it’s best that I start now;
Start now, before I forget.
At some level, i felt like i was talking to myself with this poem. I’ve become rather good at pretending I’m fine even if i feel dead inside, and almost anywhere i go i can adapt and adjust my demeanor to fit in just fine. It’s not really even something i do consciously anymore, I do it without really thinking about it. Anyways, enjoy the read folks.
A new face for each situation,
Is that smile just another facade?
Like the chameleon that blends wherever it goes,
Another change of face to always fit in.
Among the masks do you still remember you,
Or have you forgotten which face is true?
Are you lost among the sea of the masses,
Have you lost grip on who you really are?
Never showing what’s inside,
You show them a smile, always a smile.
I was having a conversation with my sister when self improvement came up, which then led me to put words to how I look at things. It’s a rather simple view, but i felt like writing it out anyways. With that said, enjoy the read.
My View of Life
Life is a constant struggle to improve ourselves,
Without it stagnation sets in and erodes who we are.
To stop is to accept that stagnation and rot away,
To stop is to accept the death of who could be.
Movement is what keeps us alive,
It doesn’t matter which way you go as long as you don’t stop.
It doesn’t matter if we lose progress in our movements,
As long as we’re alive we can change and improve on what we lost.
Forcing ourselves to keep moving isn’t always easy,
But we can’t afford to stop trying no matter how hard it is.
I’m not sure how long i spent staring at the document before i ended up writing this, but i’m pretty sure i was close to the point of saying “Dear God, either let me think of something to write or smite me.” Then my air conditioner turned off and an idea smacked me in the face, and this time it didn’t go running away taunting me after making itself known… Far to many ideas come to me, smack me in the face, then run of cackling like a mad man before i can write them… It would probably drive me insane with how often it happens. Fortunately; you can’t go where you already are, so it’s a very short trip. And with that bit of rambling out of the way, enjoy the read,
Like static in the background,
You may never notice it’s always around.
The inconsequential noise throughout the day,
You’ll only notice it when it fades away.
When you’re left in silence you’ll finally know,
That those were people you never should have let go.
It’s been way too long since i managed to get something written up and posted on here, but i finally managed to put words on a page again. It’s rather maddening when i can’t think of anything to write. With that said, enjoy the read.
Traces of Memories
Every broken dream,
Those little traces of memories.
Memories of what was,
Dreams of what could have been.
They’re still there even if they fall apart,
Drifting through the shadows of the mind till they fade away.
I still remember them even as broken as they are,
When you can’t let go of the past they will never fade.
Do they still drift in your mind,
Or have you forgotten those little things?
This very short poem is sort of a parallel to the poem “White World” I wrote awhile ago, a quick look at the second form of writer’s block that I have to deal with. I’m not sure how many other people get this variety of writer’s block, but it can be just as annoying as not having any ideas to write in my experience.
Anyways, enjoy the read,
They blot out the sun as they dart and dance,
Movement to the chorus of countless words.
Too many ideas can be just as bad as none at all,
They all clamor for my attention but they don’t slow down.
It’s hard to write a story when the words won’t hold still.
What did he do to deserve this?
Was it really just because of that one kiss?
A kiss from someone more beautiful than life,
A kiss from someone who was another man’s wife.
That fleeting moment that felt like it lasted forever,
The damning moment that would have them buried together.
Still holding hands as they wished they could be saved,
But two shots in the dark filled the cold grave.