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Literature Text
Ask me just one little time,
Ask me how I feel.
Ask me how I'm doin'
Please ask me if I'm real.
I may not really show it.
I may not really care.
But if I'm truly honest,
And I am, I swear!
I really think
That all my thoughts
Are really chains
Around this box.
This box that I have made my home,
This fortress I have built.
To keep you all from finding out
My cause of grief and guilt.
I don't want to let you see that.
I couldn't bare the bitter shame!
Of my walls come crashing in,
For you to that I'm the same.
The same as all these other fools,
The same as him and her.
Because behind our fortress walls-
A human heart that burns.
It burns something brighter.
It burns for something true.
It burns for love and sacrifice
Burnt for me and you.
Ask me how I feel.
Ask me how I'm doin'
Please ask me if I'm real.
I may not really show it.
I may not really care.
But if I'm truly honest,
And I am, I swear!
I really think
That all my thoughts
Are really chains
Around this box.
This box that I have made my home,
This fortress I have built.
To keep you all from finding out
My cause of grief and guilt.
I don't want to let you see that.
I couldn't bare the bitter shame!
Of my walls come crashing in,
For you to that I'm the same.
The same as all these other fools,
The same as him and her.
Because behind our fortress walls-
A human heart that burns.
It burns something brighter.
It burns for something true.
It burns for love and sacrifice
Burnt for me and you.
Literature
wondertow
perhaps love is meant to end. love opens one's eyes and mind to hope, validation, presence; meaning should exist before, during, after else one be lost in a sea of throwing-up-hands and mirrors smoked. tears are choked back often, smeared journal entries erode over time to be faint scars; we are libraries of guilt and apprehension stacked past icarus' wonder. once your fangs grow you're in the bite, only right to taste a throat or two before you file them away like wildflowers between pages of a book you will bury in dust. perhaps love is meant to remind us of kindness offered, of striving to be more, of how we know ourselves when we feel blessed, of coughing up beauty like stars aligned with expectations. and then, as a candle at dawn, let go.
Literature
momentary.
✦ ✦ ✦
I am the sparks from a lost connection,
impulse on wires seeking a listener;
an unheard reply, silenced and aimless,
speeding in no apparent direction.
I can't stay afire - but before I'm smothered
by cold rooftop winds, I'll snap underneath
the talons of ravens, make them descent and
watch their arched wings spiral in turbulences.
╱ ╱ ╱ ╱ ╱ ╱ ╱ ╱
╱ ╱
Literature
Reorient
I don't need to self-abandon To chase some dream of peace with you. You will find your peace At your own pace, or not. I will never know peace, Unless I stop running And sit here, alone, with me.
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If you feel there's more to life than what people say there is, know that you're not alone.
© 2014 - 2024 permanence-in-flux
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