Is Past to Blame?

Tell me, how am I supposed to feel

When all I get are crazy things to hear

my childhood was full of fights and nights of tears

I grew up shy with no words to ever say

I’ve never had no friends and today it’s still the same.

And now I’m always afraid of what move to make.

I feel like I’m stuck- I’ve lost from the beginning

Maybe it’s fate, or maybe I’m sinning.

I was never free, despite what it appears to be

But I’ve held onto faith and smile for hope.

I know I’m alone, but from above there’s a rope

for me to climb up, and let all else go-

ignore what’s happening, and keep writing

my list of wishes,

like how I wish someone would do the dishes-

I still struggle to live as life should be

But maybe one day, I’ll live as me

With a tough past, but free of grief.

and maybe I’ll finally write

when I’m not sad, but happy.

 

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With the Light of no source

behind the curtains
above these windows
with not a single star in sight
there gazes a certain light
belonging to no source
despite the thundering plight
ringing against my ears
bringing me to tears

I’m fighting for my sake
because my purpose is all I have
far away from the regular world
swarmed by the stories that are lived as untold
It’s not the material I desire to take
and rub it into my hands
pretending it won’t turn to dust
nor is it the lust
that bewitches hearts to rust

rather it’s what dries away my tears
the cool wind thriving through my years
guiding me to the light
I was sure was ever real
helping me see myself
above the petty things
that were grown with crooked wings
failing me to fly
to the greatest height of one’s sight
no
I see myself
above those petty things
grown with crooked wings
above the lavish
that seizes to quench the thirst of gluttonous eyes

I see myself rise,
not needing the sugar in the lies-

nor the endless tales in ties-

I see myself

going

towards the heaviest in size, succulent clouds
with rain drops
of no owner shared
ready to give
to that which is none unless paired

so here I am
behind these dark curtains
listening to the lightning
with no stars in sighting
having the one thing
that is the world’s most heightened
glory, with the wind keeping my secrets

to myself

Jug of Milk

Adjacent vulnerability welling up my throat.

I saw in a full  clear jug of milk

fresh grass pile up and float

It was the mourning of my past

and my heart’s ill hope

that something for his future might just slope

This was the fresh grass, like a fresh cut

that polluted my jug

for my mourning and my cut would always rise up fresh

and ruin my morning drink

my afternoon drink

and my evening drink

and my night drink

to the point- that I would not think.

the sadness in my desires

for wholesome love to light my fires

spoiled my every drink

depriving me of pure happiness

and the pure willingness

to focus on God

thus leaving me flawed

 

Just like the grass in my milk