It’s never too late
they say.
The ones who have hope
all night and day.
But when morning comes and goes
is when every bit leaves but my
fears and woes.
Hatred is not something
that I like to admit
that I feel ever so strongly,
and regret every little bit.
Passion to hurt,
bring about pain.
Since when did I become
the criminally insane?
I want to let go,
to be okay.
But what can I do?
Is there any other way?
Writing is a great release
especially for someone like me.
It allows me to open my mind,
and let my thoughts run free.
Where words of hatred just won’t be felt,
these thoughts stick to a road.
They don’t run freely throughout my head
or seem to come in a type of code.
There was a poem that once said
“Do not go gentle into that good night.”
and I won’t, because
I always enjoyed the darkness over light.
The shadows are where I do my deeds,
free from wandering eye,
doing what I do best,
letting other’s lights shine by.
People need not fret,
for my intentions are pure.
Darkness is not scary,
it just has that type of allure.
It is the absence of light,
meaning it has no girth.
Yet it is how we all start,
right from our very birth.
Many choose to go on,
do great things.
But for them to succeed,
some must give them wings.
Oh, the desire to fly,
and to look at the world below,
with not a care in the world,
letting life go by slow.
It must be peaceful in the clouds
of a starry, peaceful night.
Only the sound of wings flapping,
and the moon being your guiding light.
It seems there to be a missing link,
for we are all called to be great.
Yet how is that true?
For not all of us have that specific trait.
I am not bright,
nor the best in sports.
Not much to really claim in the way of accomplishments,
or anything of the sorts.
I speak for those who do not speak,
I stand by those who feel alone.
I try to make them see
themselves as from my view of what they have shown.
They are meant for greatness,
to see the world far and wide.
Yet what about me?
Why do I feel the need to hide?
To be in darkness,
to fly in the sky,
I don’t want to feel alone,
yet I stick to these desires why?
They are counterproductive,
cannot have one and the other.
This is my dilemma,
to be alone yet to be smothered.
I need to get my thoughts
back on the right track.
To figure out whom I am
and where I stack.
To keep my anger from growing wild,
to remain timid and mild.
I won’t be a pushover,
not anymore.
But this does not mean
I will be a wild boar.
But when push comes to shove,
against me I will not hold.
For I have taken enough punishment
in my life from people who were cold.
No,
what she did was not fair.
But did she really do this
without a care?
I can’t imagine her being okay,
at least at how things went.
She is probably just as tired
and just as spent.
To be reminded of what I had,
this does not make things easy.
Every day I see these things,
and my stomach gets queasy.
A love unbound,
not ready to be seen.
I can’t help but feel anger,
but I don’t want to be mean.
This is the end,
or for now as it seems.
Time to start anew
as in the night sky, I see my new star begin to gleam.
I am on a new road,
a new path if you will.
Maybe this time something will come my way,
that can keep my heart still.
For now I must await
to see where this goes,
because even I won’t see it coming
until whatever it is shows.