|08-23-2012, 12:09 AM||#1|
Join Date: Nov 2009
the first step of anything is always the toughest to take.
especially the first hello after the first goodbye.
which is the right foot?
cause yesterday i started off on the left.
some say they're bad at goodbye's.
i say i'm pretty good at the impromptu ones.
they say skill comes with experience, right?
filling in the rest is the adventure.
who am i, anyway?
i'm like liquid: taking shape in whatever.
who am i to say who i am?
i'm like salt: just burn me out of whatever.
sometimes i know what i want.
like a kid with his finger on an item in a magazine.
then there's times i put my finger on myself and say:
"what the fuck is that?"
because wherever i want to be, i can be.
whatever i want to be, i can be.
whoever i want to be, i can be.
and isn't that the problem?
it's times like these that i realize i hold the world in my hands.
and times like these that i think of all the ways i could fuck it up.
there are only a couple of ways to go right,
but so many to go wrong.
so when i look at an opportunity,
don't the odds tell me it's almost certainly the latter?
then why does my gut tell me it's the former?
it's this 'feeling out' that i don't quite get.
my methods don't scream "effective,"
they just leave me screaming.
for help. for something. for someone.
going through life blind is one thing.
but going through life blind and alone is another.
i've always respected the blind people you see out walking the streets.
a feat my feet just couldn't pull off.
it's just this whole human literacy thing.
it seems i can't read people,
and i know i can't read braille.
so what good am i?
but then again, i know i'm good.
deep down, i try for the best.
no one is perfect, right?
but then there's you.
to me you seem perfect.
but i know you aren't.
perception is a dangerous thing.
i like to paint things the color i want them.
which doesn't mean i paint them the color they truly are.
because who's to say what color anything truly is?
what's red to me may be green to him.
i know you like to do the same thing.
but i have to question:
why'd you paint your skin off?
it's bad for you, you know.
shit happens in life, and we all know it.
how you take care of your own personal shit is just the fun.
some scream, some cry, some keep it in.
you decided to get rid of your skin.
i understand the reasoning behind your decision,
no one wants to be stuck in a bad commitment.
especially when that commitment is who you are.
i've been there, and it aint fun.
quite simply, i hope you find your skin.
i know the world is a dangerous place without it.
peril lurks behind every corner.
tainted souls trying to steal you away.
and i want the best for you.
maybe the best for you is the best for me.
maybe i'm selfish.
maybe this is mutual.
i'm just dreaming, which isn't healthy for me.
but everyone's gotta have a drug, right?
the high is potential to the sky.
the crash is perpetual disappointment.
when i'm high, you steal my mind.
i see visions of happiness, like before.
but not stained by my careless mistake,
my dearest regret.
i'm a little too easy to fall,
but damn it if this doesn't feel like a worthy flight of stairs to hurl myself down.
i'm halfway to the bottom, and it hurts.
i pray every night to be pulled down.
i worry myself.
because i'm nearsighted, naive, and clueless.
i believe in myself.
because i have a shitload of band-aids.
it's times like these that i realize we hold the world in our hands.
and times like these that i think of all that could become.
there are so many things we could do.
i want to try to hold the world again.
because wherever we want to be, we can be.
whatever we want to be, we can be.
whoever we want to be, we can be.
and what's so bad about that?
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