Search

Stars and Snowflakes

Month

April 2016

Fighting and Falling

Fear was carved into me
Like initials on a pine tree.
It’s not how I’m supposed to be,
So instead of letting it kill me,
I fight.
Courage is my birthright.

The best things are hard won
But impossible to keep.
The quiet ache of loss runs deep.

Endings always come,
And nothing gold can stay,
But that’s not the final act of the play.
The burning isn’t something to fear.
It’s a sign that the rising is near.
I’m waiting for the fallout
‘Cause I’ll fall into something new.
I always do.

Compatibility

They reject convention,
Not with bad intentions
But because that’s how they were born.
Broken. Twisted. Torn.
They see the strings behind the curtain.
Knowing that no facts are certain,
They’re still pulled by “meant to be,”
Struggling to make the other see
The heart they’re too afraid to show
Directly. Hinted notes and melodies
Play the truth of a song never sang.
He is the Yin to her Yang.

Never

Is this word
Destined to be
My legacy?
Based on where I stand today,
They might say
I never could.
I never did.
I never tried.
I lived a life unsatisfied.
Will this be true?
Will what I do
Be eclipsed by
What I didn’t manage to?
Will I never gain what I want most?
No.
I won’t let never be my ghost.

Hit and Run

Memories are best left dead
On the side of the road.
Hit and run
Don’t think about what you’ve done.
Don’t be disturbed by what you see.
Build your own reality.
—Until
A sudden trigger
Pulled on a starting pistol
Signals the beginning
Of the race of our lives.
The sound sends me tripping
Onto needles and knives.

Challenges

Each setback drives us closer
To where we want to go.
We can only climb as high
As our lowest low.
Each challenge brings a lesson,
New potential, a chance
To discover new perspective,
For our mindsets to advance.
Each failure brings a sting,
And that pain is motivation.
We could choose to give up hope
Or power through the frustration.
We always have a chance,
As long as we’re alive,
To learn more, do better,
And thrive.

Cycle

It’s a cycle
Not vicious
A pattern
Of polka dots
Evenly spaced
A series
Of floor tiles
Perfectly placed

Life, Death, Birth
Death, Birth, Life
Birth, Life, Death

It’s a cycle of beginnings,
And a cycle of endings,
And a cycle of constant existing
In all states at once.

Tunnel Vision

Look down, and you’re dead.
Keep those eyes ahead.
Look back, and you’ll freeze.
They’ll shoot you on your knees.
Look up, you’re a fool,
Some clockmaker’s tool.

Eyes on the horizon,
Right where the sun is risin’
Feel it warm your face,
And just maintain your pace.
Better yet, run faster.
Be your own life’s master.

Don’t think of the flowers
Or the holes at your feet,
The sights that you’ve missed,
The people you didn’t meet,
All those unheard voices,
And the hope you dismissed
Out of fear of your choices.

Apathy

So shallow you could drown.
Glued-on feathers weigh her down.
Ocean-eyes boil underneath.
So much salt it rots your teeth.

Doesn’t smile; doesn’t frown.
Small dreams; small town.
Plays well; never shares.
Adored; never cares.

Remembered the rules
So she could break them,
Then gathered the tools
And power to make them.

She arranged each square cog
Before getting lost at sea.
Sailed, tempted, into fog
And drowned in apathy.

Why

Why?
A clawing thought
That implies a plot
Yet unknown.
The painful fee
Of failure and memory
That won’t leave us alone.
The inquiry of youth
In search of a truth
We’ll never be shown.

Create a free website or blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑