When the child in me used to be alive, I was the pride of my own kind, now I look different in my old time, I found a way to survive, I don’t know how, I don’t know why, but I know that I had mine.
Blank as a plain paper, came from nothing to sum’n, script down your tale as a story to those yet to come, evil is what you make it yet it’s all around us, the irony in it is that it’s sum’n avoided by a way.
Live life free, it’s written, you can even read it, paranoia is weird when you let it be, meaningful words are tokens, the wise know the exposure and understand it.
What about you, what about who, when will you, sorry is the simplest believe that one means it, the past is a lesson depending on the viewer, sweet memories are made a new when the acceptance is paid off.
Open up and let them see the wounds heal, scars remain as the beauty that you survived, based on a true story, love is just between they that seal, confessions are realistic if they hurt, if they bring joy in the form of tears.
Remember and learn, wisdom is enough to teach how to love and peace comes from the understanding, you’re blessed, imagine ever step into the future is breath, sweeter than any sweet.
In the silence that clouded my mind, I tried to find the peace in the pain that arose like smoke, falling to pieces as the dust blew along with the wind, at war and loosing felt as the sweetest pain, who do you trust if you can’t even face yourself, mirrors just image the image just trapped in the reflection and why it happens is the dilemma that answers the answer without question.
Believing that am a born sinner as the rest who also waits to be among the winners but am disappointed by the current progress, I keep falling back to the same place, these trenches dig up the hurt again, wound blessed, so is it best to end it if it keeps repeating itself, a constant loop with an unknown end, my power is limited like the view through tinted windows and the noises in my head grew loud as time flew by as a spectrum perfected by the common human perception that is fake.
Dreaming big is a gift and the visions sometimes feel real, wondering why I see myself big yet I still look small, magnify the glass so the image is nice, smooth looks smart twists with slick moves are a questionable level of swag for some and to others none of that even matters.
Love yours and be happy for what you have, you own it better because only you understands the struggles you face.
They tried to eliminate us by the different versions of changing all to a common species, we same but different, the society, retro, but reality is different.
The Political difference between those who play it and those who own it is based on logic between understanding the game and running the backstage processes that are puppeted to the public as a mirror that’s just an illusion of image.
Political racism is a factor that fuels the urge and need for some, who is King or Queen if those in power are still common as the commoner; just different status based on who eats at the end of the day and who doesn’t.
The rich keep growing rich and the poor keep growing poorer because they are robbed in plain sight through a magical process known as corruption.
Ironic; in that people actually know the truth but no one is brave to say it aloud.
It’s common for one to see or hear the things others think you don’t or haven’t, one may assume deafness or blindness to it but in the real sense, one just ignored what they heard or saw.
On a stroll one Sunny afternoon, I heard, from the corner of my eye, I saw, with the marks exposed in the form of puncher wounds, my back complained, how it could be was an explanation that came to mind, it happened for a reason, well enough to the absence of the exposure, distance just showed the truth that leaked, a code word may change status but what abou the milk they silled in the process, they thought it and I heard it.
What’s the true definition of friend, a looping question in the minds of many yet the answer was taught at birth, wisdom may show you sum’n about knowledge but how you handle it bridges you to the understanding that you need.
Indeed as they say, a friend in need is a friend indeed.
Gossip can create much if the gossiped is present, see what much can do less, hear and don’t listen, the events that happened taught truth and all I see is the reality in the absence of boundaries, honesty exposed; people will always talk about sum’n, you can be a topic or a statistic, a book judged by the cover is never clear to the reader.
A person is as great as his or her unknown potential and to haters, they actually knowthemselves because parrots flock together with their kind and cracks reveal much in a seated pair.
..dotted lines down memory lane and am again reminded that no one ever is truly honest, unless they really want to be, they either play a game of words to test your limits with good intentions at heart, or they do the complete opposite, they wound you beyond recovery and every time you attempt to move on from that darkness, you’re reminded of the permanent scars that tore through your flesh, punctured you as easily like death to an inflated balloon or sum’n of the sort, lack of breath takes life, you live with a dead soul within.
People will always talk about you, whether you’re doing well, or whether you’re doing badly.
A voice is raised often like a double edged sword and its effects are permanently wielded with the alignment between the order giver and the order doer.
I see through the cracks in the walls you put up, I look to find out what’s really up because I notice the different facial expressions you feature like an advertisement, I find myself caring too much for the best of you yet I still hurt from the disasters at heart, torn away from the very fabric that’s woven to bind the edges closer to the essence of the reality before the rift, once upon a time there was a complete feel that’s now faded like these rags I wear.Colour torn like the collar of this shirt, I ripped off the page and measured the gauge by the time I saw the end of day, I walked away with my earphones shouting loud to my eardrums, the beats brought noise to the understanding of my brain and I just nodded, jotting down the memos from my mental notes.
Scripts made by the author.
Mind blown by the passing winds, sails set up and I’m visually impaired but fixated on the light that dimmed out slowly as sleep came to collet it’s dues for slumber.
I watched as you walked away and peace negotiations between the two sides took a toll from the beginning of the chapter, key factors broke me up individually, been demented by a curse you out on me and every fallen angel has their personal pain, broken wings don’t flock with the flow no more, am steady on my two step, on route eleven and the walk is worth a run for your money.
Hustling for better options, opportunities and obligations.
I woke up and realised that I’d lost it, lost all actually, by allowing myself to believe that, I let my life become unknown in the known, some things usually happen and being broken beyond repair is a very long tap dance with reality.
We keep comparing our worst with every Tom, Dick and Harry, saying I’ve had it worse, I’ve had it the baddest, I’ve had this and that, yet we all live in the same hell with different sentences.