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.