Too often saidI often hear it said,Beauty,Uttered by too many.But it makes me wonder,Have you ever been told -You are beautiful?If you haven't,Can I?Can I speak to you?Can I tell you,You are beautiful?Notice I use the modal verb,Can,Because I need your permission.There is something that I want you to know,I am rubbish at this,Rubbish at all of this.These are my thoughts,These are the words I want you to hear,From me,But undoubtedly,Someone,Bigger,Braver,Bolder,Will tell you,But,I wish it could be me.It may be too often said,But I want you to hear it,You are beautiful.I say I know,You would never be interested in a person like me,But this is my message to you,A message that you will never read,A note that was placed in a bottle but never put in the ocean.My thoughts,Will never transpire, to anything tangible.You are beautiful,And my worries, my anxieties,Of things that will never happen,Keep me awake,For three days,And I'm tired,And I'm sad.That you are be
KitesEvery time I triedto put my name to you,you vanishedcoyly mingling with the airthe blue twilightdust about your feet.Every time someonetries to claim you, youfly up intoa cloud of smoke, the first lightof dawnsplit into psychedelicpatternsfiltered through yourbutterfly wings.Every time I triedto capture the force that drives you,makes you run,my hands came up empty, the clues like grainsof sand,raindrops and glass teethshattering as they fell from my mouth.You evade every attempt to definecynical, bashful,optimistartistthe glimmer in your gazesettles on me as pixie dustbut I cannot believe well enoughto fly...All I want to do is hold you,all of you,close to mebecause I'm fragmented without you.The words on your skincontradict the mind, bypass everything, though I wonderwhat I've done to youwho am I to change you?Hungry and restless,giver of visionswherever you go, live within meand knowthat I love you,and every part of youis perfect.
Puppets WristsI am the puppetYou are my masterIt is you who shall lead meInto disasterMy strings like a nooseThin as a threadYour laughter echosAgain in my headYou tug at the stringsCutting my wristAnd put your spell on meThe first time we kissedPull your puppetSide to sideMake it danceUnable to hideI feel every tugFollow every pullAs you conduct my limp bodySitting on your little stoolHidden by the red curtainI do not seeThe man or woman, evil human or beastWho has been controlling me
The Routes We Can TakeWhen we think and contemplate,The time we have spent,Alone or otherwise,And all we can conjure,Is darkness and peripheral things,Our structure,Our being,Only embodies despair.Thoughts of tomorrow,Are confined to yesterday.Relationships have been made,Burnt and forgotten.But all along this route,Potholed and distorted,We still manage to move,Manage to put one footstep in front of another,And although the footsteps we leave behind,May remind us of sorrow,And fill us with thoughts of pain.We can be preserved,We can be stimulated,That all it takes,Is for us to move our legs,Continue to make footprints,Hope to leave a better past,And enjoy the time we have now.
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