Self-Worth

the edges are rugged, clearly from use
and perhaps some neglect hidden in there too
the chapters are worn, damaged, stained
from experience, from life, and from just a bit of rain
left outside, withered, torn to pieces
by onlookers, bystanders, and just little children
some yellowing, some age – it all seems the same
flipped upside down, turned around
into a violent trance
it still wouldn’t cause a second glance
no one would care
or even notice
until the sound of ripping
tearing
torturing
reverberated
because then it’s not the same
it’s not rugged
or used
or neglected or stained
it’s destroyed
and we’re all to blame.

Separation

the walls are closing in
crashing down
all around
until the only essence left
is loneliness

no supports
no beams
no groups or teams

the doors closed
locked you in
to fend for yourself
to make the most
or to destroy the best
until it all ends

nothing feels safe
no one – no place

and all you can do
is shut down

The Surface Doesn't Mean A Thing

the feeling wells up
within me
only anger
can surface
anger at the hand
I've been dealt
anger that I
can't understand
– no one can understand
as well as
the pain
within
that screams out
in an attempt
to control
and destroy
hopes,
dreams,
hard work –
and the person
I emphasize
...until it's gone.

Short-Term Instead

you once understood me

down to the slightest

crease in my flesh

but if this is true,

then how is it possible

that you now,

don't know me at all?

you pushed me behind

as if under a bus

to hold together your past

when holding onto us

went to the back burner.

you moved forward

and that's fine

but you forgot

and for that, I can

not.

Choke

it rises
surrounding us,
enveloping us,
as if lifeless,
careless –
it's only desire for the world
is to make us all choke

whether it be losing loved ones
whom have been enveloped,
or for the surrounding
sensation of ourselves

but no matter how it's
looked upon
it's merely a metaphor of
death:
rising all around us,
until it replaces the sky
with its dark entity.

Change

The hues change
and the shape reflects
all the while
onlooking
at what crosses before it

The center of meaning
and the meaning
of life
remains masked
behind it

They change with the
light
but the message stays the
same

and the only one
who will be able to read it
is the one
who knows exactly
what they're looking for

The Promise

the words are wrapped so tightly

and so eloquently

I can't believe they've been spoken

to me

the token holds me tightly

it warms my heart to know

that he's not going

very far

from the place that we call home

his words are true

and his actions real

my dreams are known

– they do exist

they shine through him

as he shines through this

I often can't

explain just how

the feelings feel

wrapped around

but he made the special promise

that I hold so dear to me

cause it feels as though

it is the only thing

I truly can believe