Tag Archives: cry

The Tree of Knowledge

Into the night that may swallow whole
What fear we have and render silent the voices that may protest.
On deaf ears our crys fall,
An uncaring void, unwelcoming, and unable to
See how we fall, motionless,
Into the apathy of entropy that holds the universe in check.
What pride, what arrogance would grow rampant
Had not the tree of knowledge bestowed the gift of mortality.

A Necessity of Tears

Holding onto grief like wilting flowers,
Their beauty is not a gift just for you,
But me; for a passing of the hours.
We all hold our own wilting flowers, true,
So there is no reason to give you mine.
I’ll hold onto these as you do to yours,
One more won’t wilt; I won’t repay in kind.
I’ll keep mine to me, I won’t create more.
All flowers simply wilt before they dry.
This. When the waters they may need are tears,
It is what’s necessary when we cry.
One lets go of this, one lets go of fear.
This. How we heal, how we make flowers bloom.
How we refuse the hearts death and heal soon.

Nihilistic Optimism

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Life is pain and then you die.
Why should I bother to even try?
Days pass by quickly,uncaring.
They do not ask how I am fairing.
It makes no difference, this or that.
It won”t take much to see where I’m at,
In the ocean cold.
Slowly sinking, grasping soul.
Treading water just prolongs,
My end, the bottom, where I belong.

But life is joy before you die!
And joy and love! Still we cry.
Something so fickle and sweet as life
Becomes fermented and stale with time.
One should not wish it to be forever
That it should continue, ending never.
We all end up at the bottom it’s true
Before then I’ll be with you,
Spending the happy hours,
Loving, laughing, avoiding sour
Looks and words that would stain
Our souls if from within they came.

Let the day pass by so quickly!
I’ll not be one who, sickly,
Sits and waits and wastes the time,
What little we have, like a slime,
Trapped on the edge of the ocean, not in it,
Not loving life, but afraid of it.
Life is pain and darkness frightening,
The end comes quickly before the ripening.
In this small time, I’ll make the most
Never fearing the inevitable ghost.
No sorrow in death. It is and it must.
Then we live on, after first turning to dust.

I Must Go

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If you must, then you must go.
I’m sorry I’m here to make it slow,
I know you won’t change your mind so,
Just go.

You must stay. I must leave.
It’s better this way you see?
It isn’t you it is really me.
Dont ask me to explain.
Just believe.

How can this be what’s best?
Are you sure it’s not a test?
Or are you leaving me deft,
Just like the rest?

You will see one day,
And thank me in your own way.
You will see why I can’t stay.
You will find a brighter day.

A brighter day I will find?
Perhaps a place I can unwind.
Perhaps a place not so unkind.
But I’ve no such place in mind.

She never let him see her cry.
He never let her see him cry.
She never found the reason why.
He never let this pass him by.

Lost In October

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Sober is and does as sober.
I remember last October,
When turned red the leaves,
And such a fire was shown in trees.
It was a time for autumn and loves lost.
For such things beyond cost.
There was a morning I grew weary,
And not long after then was teary.
That love lost was my mistake.
I could not prevent, her heart did break.
The bottom of that bottle,
Held not the hope I’d wished to coddle.
Now one year later, six months dry,
There are sometimes that I still cry.
Sober is as sober does.
That I’ll remain because,
That lost love did yield some learning,
And that next one I find, yearning,
Or the next one that I lose,
Some foolish bottle, for me won’t choose.

Hope To Carry On

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From some fading light it hides,
Stifling all the while a cry.
Within without the sanity so,
It can never truly let go.
Every minute waiting,
Every moment in its path,
Something essential left for wanting,
Though can’t reach up and make it last.
Every day shorter than the one before.
One might be surprised that dying,
Wasn’t already on the floor.
There in its crying it might say,
“This is just another day.”
And will look forward to the next,
Searching for some way in small to be blessed.

That Past Tamed

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Once the heart is cut out
She’s left there to die.
One might expect her to pout,
But she doesn’t cry.
Without a heart shes stronger.
Albeit now numb?
Sleeping I’ve found her,
Restlessly never done
Of a heart dreaming,
Wishing it to be hers.
In all this a demon seeming-
Ly ties her to the clamor.
She cannot escape the noise,
From her heartbreak, her past.
She’s now pains toy,
How much longer will she last?
I walked past a grave,
Half expecting to see her name.
She must be so very brave.
Now she has that past tamed.