It Was Beautiful & It Wasn't
Paradoxical
Silence is creeping in
I’m walking toward the shadows.
The silence is giving me nostalgia.
I’m withering my ego into oblivion.
Wonders of a world far more prevalent
than the one I’ve been deemed to exist in.
Life is taken for granted; time is taken for a fool.
Time is precious indeed, but what is time
if all you ever feel is misery.
My mind slipping and sloping into a haven
forbidden to be desired. The world
is so cruel, for no reason whatsoever
life is taken tragically. Gods?
What of the gods we believe in?
Where are they
when bodies are headless,
our chests are heartless?
Where is the higher power?
when your only solution is to jump? Jump
and meet your maker. Jump
and all the pain will be swept away.
Perhaps you’d like to take the fastest route?
A bullet to the brain? Why?
Why do we hesitate when we say
we want to end it all?
But some take no hesitation.
What is the difference? Do we all not share
the same amount of pain?
Are we all not the result of life’s cruelty?
Why do we treat others with so much hostility?
If I walk into a room, I will grab no attention.
If a man with society’s glamorous looks and trends walks into a room,
everyone will stop and stare. You see,
human nature is just so judgmental.
No judgments here, but when I die
I’d like for them to not lie.
Don’t say you thought I was admirable
if you’ve never spoken a word to me.
Don’t say you enjoyed my company
when you never took the time to see me.
Don’t say I was the best thing that’s ever happened to you,
when personally you said I was the worst.
When I die, I’d like a rave!
Something the world will never forget.
I’d like to go out with a bang,
even though my existence
was a silence.
Sinners and Saints.
Trying to overcompensate for my absence
in the house of worship. They told me god doesn’t
speaks to those who are slaves to their demons.
The cynics who lie awake at night
wondering if there is a god or any higher power.
The wounded souls who are trapped in the
crossfire of broken promises and broken hearts.
The unforgivable few who the world sees as
dangerous or incompetent.
I’ve never been a person to hide my shame. I flaunt that thing
around as if it’s a trophy; as for any religious
beliefs, I sometimes have no hope. How many
nights I’ve spent praying and crying to an
unresponsive God, who I have no idea even exists.
Unapologetic in the cruelest way, I’d rather be
a sinner, rather an unrealistic saint. Entrap my
soul, my mind & my body for having forbidden thoughts.
How can the elites live like gods, but the poor
scrape to the last ends of the earth to find
comfort and food.
Standing In the streets
begging for scraps and putting their prides
aside to feed their own. Where are the saints?
where are the saints, when people are in need of a savior?
The sinners show up whenever there is a calling.
The saints fade when the people are drowning and
the earth is crumbling. Still we try our best to live like
saints but we can’t even entirely sacrifice ourselves
for the good of others. Everybody wants to win,
nobody wants to lose. Nobody wants to be on the
receiving the end of the bullet, but we’re all for being behind the trigger.
