282. The Tree

Tree Awakening

Growing. Advancing its’ roots.

The tree always blossoms with time,

And in time it must feed its’ roots;

With sunshine.

Inside the flesh it has grown.

Now out of flesh it must rise,

And break through the skin and bone;

To survive.

Boring its’ way through the cheek.

Blood oozes and creeps down its’ bark.

Will the world be ready for this freak;

And fathom?

Gasps and screams sing-out as it grows.

“Oh, how horrid the truth! How bizarre!”

“This black-tree only spreads and sows;

Its’ evil!”

“Cut it down! Cut it down! The devil needs no light!”

“Let it live in the darkness it exposes!”

Too obscene to look at, and offensive a blight;

To accept.

Growing. It always keeps growing alone.

Cut back and cut down,….it remains.

For evil once lived finds a life of its’ own;

And spreads.

Could the light have allowed the tree,

To blossom into something of worth?

Is there beauty in the horror in thee;

In season?

The tree through each season lives on,

And under the skin it still thrives.

‘Til one day all its’ roots will be gone;

In soul-death.

For self-destruction’s humanities’ legacy,

To the children who refuse to accept,

They should hide the sins of the world and agree:..

“There’s no tree”.

K. Aldaya, 12/4/14

Picture: http://dark.pozadia.org/images/wallpapers/65774778/Dark/Evil%20Tree%20Lord%20Awakening.jpg

281. Reincarnation

om shanti om snowglobe

Oh, how enchanting your presence is.

How my heartbeats run away with you.

To another life. Another time.

Where they once beat together as one, not two!

Does time flow through this heart?

Does it keep repeating its’ destiny?

Through the ages flowing the same course?

Ever to meet and bleed-out tragedy?

So close these hearts to one another,

Always close, yet never close enough.

Providence paints a grievous story,

On the hands of time,…deep and rough,…

In my heart.

K. Aldaya, 11/20/14

Picture: From “Om Shanti Om”  http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-U5JZM-nIhd8/U6sJpkuUKmI/AAAAAAAAhOA/D6cqDfAHPUo/s1600/om+shanti+om+snowglobe.png

280. The Death of Dreams

in_the_mirror_by_sad_cat-d3geaay

Remember when you dared to dream?

Remember when you still had hope?

When the world held possibilities,

And time was vast in scope?

Remember when you dared to trust?

Remember when you still saw good?

When you looked into a persons’ eyes,

And expected brotherhood?

Now you always expect the worst.

That people are working an angle.

And when you look into anothers’ eyes,

You expect your heart they’ll strangle.

And now you don’t know how to dream.

And hope just makes your heart cry.

For you look in the mirror and all you see,

Is a vessel almost bled dry…

Just waiting ’round to die.

Remember when you used to think,

Someday you’d find some salvation?

And be saved from the death of dreams,

By some empathy or consolation?

Now all you think is that it’s late,

And hopes and dreams: for the young.

And daydream what might have been,

If your dreams weren’t left unsung.

You close your eyes and fantasize,

In your daily dissociations,

About how you and things might have been,

If just one person had offered validations…

Before the eleventh hour.

K. Aldaya,  11/2/14

Picture:  http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs70/i/2011/135/b/a/in_the_mirror_by_sad_cat-d3geaay.jpg

279. Elegy of the Fairy

2010_01_05_old_book_2x3

Leather-bound, embossed with theme.

A fairy’s tale expressed in dream.

What will be the lesson gleaned,

From ancient tears: imbruing sanguine?

Time passes, and on life passes.

On and on she counted the masses;

As they rose and fell ’round her grove,

The fairy, on and on she wove.

She sang and wove a requiem,

Suspended in time in a delirium.

Her voice echoed through times’ void,

Until the universe was destroyed.

And on the shelf of a newborn ‘verse,

There rests a leather-bound tome of verse;

Which when opened weeps it’s elegiac-song.

As woven into flesh the soul’s of the throng,

For eternity unceasingly sing on.

K. Aldaya, 11/1/14

Picture:  http://www.toddmckimmey.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/01/2010_01_05_old_book_2x3.jpg

278. The Lost-Cause of a Lost World?

581ef0f1ef8e18c3a3b41e61a8f6edb6

What is the point of caring for a world which cannot feel?

The poor are left to starve or die from conditions doctors could heal.

Yet, worst of all the young children sold as sex-toys for the rich;

A network built of greed and blood-money: from death, psychopaths grow rich.

And maybe worse the shattered souls of all abused by those they love.

Who will care when they give up…aim that gun and fire, ’cause they’ve never known love?

And what about the trees, and seas; and all the life we affect?

Each day we destroy our home and expect it to last in neglect.

Who will be there to care when humanity destroys itself;

When all the history of man is lost in the narrow drive for pelf.

Does a god, spirit, or perhaps some other being exist in space?

Will they know and shed a tear for the tragedy, of us, the human race?

I pray inwardly every day that man will one day evolve and be,…

Be the hope of the universe, and end the tragedy…

Before it is too late.

K. Aldaya, 10/18/14

Picture:  http://www.spiritualunite.com/file/pic/poll/2014/10/581ef0f1ef8e18c3a3b41e61a8f6edb6.jpg

277. Seduction

Favourite-River-Boat-At-Sunset-Wallpaper

He knew better than to dream.

Yet he,…he dreamt anyway.

Darkness lifts for a time as days’ gleam.

Ah, the temptress-sun loves to play,

With the hearts of hopeful men.

Oh, see well what cannot be.

See thee clearly what will die,

When dark descends and souls we bury.

Unadjusted eyes more outcry,

The loss of ‘what might have been’.

Time is both reaper and muse;

E’er blooming and withering.

Aware it’s the reapers’ time we use,

To grab hope-worms a’slithering;

And live as ‘productive’ men.

He knew better than to dream,

Yet he,…he dreamt anyway.

The pain is greatest for men who dream.

Agony is sure,…Yet lo, the day!

What a seductive oarsman!

…on this boat to the River Styx.

K. Aldaya, 9/22/14

Picture:  http://hdwallpapersly.com/favourite-river-boat-at-sunset-wallpaper/favourite-river-boat-at-sunset-wallpaper-2/

276. Bloody Hands

alice hysteria

Red as sun-lit roses in the budding-Spring,

The pavement glistens with fresh blood,

And in my heart a piercing thorn bears the moments’ sting.

In my hand is an old-withered rag of white,

And in my soul a battlefield,

Plays a ghostly reenactment of the costly fight.

–Bloody is the rag which tries to hide a guilty soul,

Yet bloodier are the hands which clean without a rag that’s whole.

Red are these hands and the only I have known,….

Are these hands with fresh-blood dripping…

Dripping, and dripping guilt and pain; scrubbing all alone.

Blue as restless oceans crashing to the shore,

Are the tears which crash to the earth,

Never enough to clean the hands of an old child-whore.

–Red as sunlit roses in the budding-Spring,

The pavement glistens with fresh blood,

And in my heart a piercing thorn bears the moments’ sting.

K. Aldaya, 8/19/14

Picture:  http://24.media.tumblr.com/tumblr_maly49hnQp1qkuk8lo1_500.jpg

275. Rest Your Head Upon My Shoulder

sunday-morning-inspiration-lean-on-me

Rest your head upon my shoulder,

And I will rest there too.

I’m so tired of trying,

I’ve failed, and the past I can’t undo.

Rest upon my shoulder dear friend.

Your warmth and breath are mine;

In time woven together.

Forget the passing hours and be mine.

Rest now and be at peace my friend,

For time will make us pay.

For stealing what is not ours;

Oh yes, we will have to pay someday.

Rest down your head and do not think,

Of days which slip us by;

And let all cares float away,

As we dream under the fated-sky.

Rest your head upon my shoulder,

And I will rest there too.

My veins are parched and drying…

I’ve failed….and the past I can’t undo….

K. Aldaya, 8/11/14

Picture:  http://thesavvysistah.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/02/sunday-morning-inspiration-lean-on-me.jpg

274. A Drama Full of Suspense and a Little Bit of Insanity

tvscreen

Is happiness more than distraction?

I wish I could say so.

I wish I knew just what it was,

That makes “happiness” so?

I feel the breeze softly blow,

And the warm golden sun.

The beauty is so great I worry,

It’s just a distraction.

It’s said life is a middle road,

Between two vast extremes.

So I wonder why I cannot find it,

Even in my dreams?

Beauty is sad and cannot last,

So I promptly reminisce;

And wind up just as sad as if,

There were no “happiness”.

Yes, it is sure, I am insane;

And certainly too intense.

Oh, I wish I could change out my brain,

And stop living ‘melodramatic-suspense’.

However, this drama called life,

Has always been this way for me.

The plot plays on through the screen,

Of my minds’ TV.

K. Aldaya, 7/22/14

Picture:  http://www.evolutionsgonnacome.tumblr.com/post/6038009903

273. Life is an Abuser

woman in depression

Life is an abuser,

And I, his unwilling victim.

Everyone tells me I’m wrong.

I should give in,

And go along.

Life is an abuser.

He hurts me all the time.

Everyone tells me to like it.

I should enjoy,

And commit.

Life is an abuser,

And I should love my abuser.

Everyone says I have to,

If I want love,

And acceptance too.

Life is an abuser,

He tells me I’m ungrateful,

And guilts me into staying,

And taking it,….

And praying.

Life is an abuser.

I sit in the corner and chant….

It’s okay….okay….okay….okay…,

But don’t believe it….

Not today.

Life is an abuser.

I tire of being his toy.

He loves to mess with my head.

It hurts so much,

I wish I were dead.

Life is an abuser,

And I, his unwilling victim.

Everyone tells me it’s okay,

But it is not…….NO…..Not today!

K. Aldaya,  6/16/14

Picture:  http://www.kuramamagazine.com/images/suicidal%20girl.jpg

272. Societal Denial

34-Gothic-1280x1024-81205

“I want to live”, I said,

To the stranger beside me.

“So, we can go together”, she said.

I nodded, to agree.

“Yes, here we are already dead”.

We drove until the cops appeared;

In many places eyeing us.

We knew when they appeared,

They were onto us;

So I quickly down-geared.

The only way is past this place,

To the other side it goes.

Through the rooms of this place.

Can we escape? Who knows?

But there’s no choice.  We race!

We ducked into an empty room,

With a small window at the end.

Hanging there—feelings of gloom,

In forms of guns to portend,

Would soon lead us to our doom.

We continued on and finally found,

The room of our escape.

We ran and I jumped out and found,

Myself alone in the escape.

My friend could not be found.

It was too late to turn back.

I had to make a break for it.

A cop was there and would attack.

Ran,…but with no hope soon quit,

To protect from the coming smack.

Curled on the ground I waited,

Shaking for fear of humankind.

A sentence won’t be abated,

For reasons held in my mind.

I knew, if caught, I would be hated.

I would be hurt for leaving;

For trying to live and escape fate.

I knew I would be receiving,

More abuse for running from fate.

I waited in dust for the grieving.

When there again, I saw my friend,

And she walked up to me, and I….

I stood and she stepped-in to lend,

Her anger, and voice, to try,….

To get the cop to comprehend.

“You do not understand”, I yelled.

“I have to get away from here”.

“If I am to live just once”, I yelled,

“I have to fight against my fear”.

“Hiding is its’ own hell!”

“Hiding from the truths that are,

Has kept me safe for awhile,

But one can’t hide: not close or far,

From the life-long mile;

Without a life-long scar.”

The cop listened and then of course,

He did his duty and tackled me.

My hands cuffed behind with force.

I’d found more misery,

By running off the course.

The course, for me, the world set.

And there are rules in this place,

Which one cannot change or forget;

Or be labelled ‘criminal’ or ‘basket-case’,

With a lifetime of shame and regret.

But the cops are just doing their work,

And the masses just shuffling along;

And the lost longingly lurk,

In the shadows just drifting along.

No salvation.  Always the jerk.

Plaguing the system with a wailing, sad-song.

Cop: “If you had just stayed hidden,

We could have all gotten along.”

K. Aldaya  6/9/14

Picture:  http://dark.pozadia.org/images/wallpapers/34-Gothic-1280×1024-81205.jpeg

 

271. On a Path Through The Woods

summer-forest-wallpapers

There is a path through the woods,

Which winds and twists a course,

Through its’ bold coniferous steeples,

Rising from their source:

The earth and its’ wood-spirits,

They call out from the deep.

Why is it those voices seep through me,

And stir my soul to weep?

What words have I to write-out,

Of how lovely and rich?

The forests are, to those who can hear,

In the ‘unheard’ pitch.

Of light fairy fantasies.

Flowing brooks and rivers.

Of high, ancient trunks as wise as Gods;

And time, which delivers….

A carefree hum on the breeze.

Hum: to the flow of life…

And death, where spirits dwell lost in dance;

Where I, and my life,

May drift into their trance…

On a path through the woods.

K. Aldaya, 5/27/14

Picture:  http://www.jogjis.com/stock/summer-forest-wallpapers.jpg

270. The Box

IMG_5151a

There is a box.

It sits there on a shelf in the closet.

In that box,

There is a hole,

Leading to a heart beset by its’ soul.

There is a box,

Full of dusty, forgotten histories,

Faded time,

Which haunts and seeks,

As a wintery, cold breeze;

It ebbs and piques.

There is a box,

Which stores ages’ unfaceable decrees,

In the faces.

Pictures.  Photos.

Wailing: what-cannot-be’s no one else knows.

There is a box.

It sits there on a shelf in the closet.

In that box,

There lie remnants,

Of a splintered-hearts’ kismet,

In a glance.

Can you see it?

The box of ghosts tucked away on that shelf?

Whispering….

Psst…over here…

Lie truths you hide from yourself,

And you fear.

K. Aldaya, 5/18/14

Picture:  http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_t1__dHwvHEI/TBhOxBIZY9I/AAAAAAAAJxs/7vv-0AzqF48/s400/IMG_5151a.jpg

269. You Don’t Want to Be Found

Artist.Request.full.1409528

I tried to find you,

But you don’t want to be found.

I wanted to love you,

But you don’t know what love is.

I want to forgive,

But you will never let me.

I wish you could just give…

A reason for rejection.

I tried to find you,

But you don’t want to be found;

So tonight, I hugged you,

In my dreams, there, you were found,…

And you still hated it.

K. Aldaya, 5/1/14

Picture:  http://static.zerochan.net/Artist.Request.full.1409528.jpg

268. The Migraine Curse

electricity

I cannot focus.

It’s all a blur.

Waves of lightning crash,

And break the day;

Each flash,

Tears me away.

I cannot ponder.

I feel so sick,..

And tired of this pain.

Help, there is none,

To gain;

I block the sun.

I cannot discern.

Emotions dull.

The mind rejects me,

My soul at war,

Can’t flee,

The fleshy-core.

I am not okay,

Though you won’t know.

Always been with me,

Waiting to stab,

In me…

A hard, swift jab.

My body’s at war.

We are not friends.

It turns against me,

When it is rough;

Leaves me,

In a huff….

Of pulsing-pain—oh, I’ve had enough!

My whole life.

When will the pain be enough?

K. Aldaya 4/26/14

Picture: http://www.thelivingmoon.com/49electric_universe/04images/Electricity/electricity.jpg (Johannes Schlorb, http://www.schloerb.com)

267. Faithless

Captive_Angel_Wallpaper_lrcv9

Salvation,

Does it exist?

For some maybe…but yet?

I fear there is no hope for me;

For I cannot forget.

Salvation,

Fades like fog,

From the day which journeys on.

I know no one will save me.

I step and step along.

Salvation,

Is a ghost.

I’ve heard it exists yet still,

I can’t see or feel its’ form;

It simply haunts my will.

Salvation.

Tell me how?

I know that I’m to save myself.

Yet, how….Oh God! How?

How does one save ones’-self?

Salvation.

Where and how?

I’m lost and I’m so scared.

How does one fight against ones’-self?

And come out unimpaired?

Salvation.

If I kill.

If part of me just dies away.

Would I still be ‘me’ anymore?

Or would I die as well that day?

Salvation,

Does it exist?

To me it is a mocking wraith.

I’m not capable of salvation.

No, I do not have your faith!

K. Aldaya, 4/15/14

Picture:  http://www.scenicreflections.com/files/Captive_Angel_Wallpaper_lrcv9.jpg

266. A Rhyming Poem About Rhyming Poems

_dancer_in_the_dark_III__by_Rijama

I’ve heard rhyme is obsolete,

And that it is a bore.

Poems in rhyme are tedious;

And furthermore they fuss,

“The quality: poor”.

Those pretentious elitists.

I don’t care what they say.

Rhyming is just what I do;

And I will continue to,

Write them out this way.

I will continue to write,

Though they will not publish.

They can say it’s pathetic.

Yes, in the head I’m thick.

Do as you so wish.

Why is the rhyme more important,

Than what my poems express?

The depth of what I’m saying?

Hear what I’m conveying;

Perceive and possess!

Rhyme is not some silly skill;

It is a song to me.

I hear it inside beating….beating….

Like my life-force greeting….through words…singing,

And I’m free!

K.Aldaya, 4/6/14

Picture:  http://fc03.deviantart.net/fs26/f/2008/163/0/7/_dancer_in_the_dark_III__by_Rijama.jpg

265. Random Thought #8

desk-sleep

I cannot think of what to write,

So maybe I just shouldn’t.

I cannot be dark or bright;

My heart just isn’t in it.

I cannot think of what to write,

So here’s this pointless poem.

Can’t express what I see in sight,

Or write it in this tome…

(I just want to go home).

I cannot think of what to write.

I’ll close my eyes instead;

Wait for the dongs of the hours’ height,

To lift my sleepy-head…

(*yawn*)…I just want to go back to bed….

K. Aldaya, 3/20/14

Picture:  http://xosarah.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/01/desk-sleep.png

264. The Most Life-Like Zombie Survival Game Ever

It’s so dark in here;

And cold…yes, it’s so cold.

Won’t someone turn on the light?

I cannot see the zombies,

But I’m ready to fight.

Fight for life and limb,

Or run and run some more.

Can’t stop or I won’t survive.

I have to get out of here…

Get out of here alive.

Shhhh…Quiet! I hear….

Close by they are walking.

I will hold my breath and wait.

I do not hear them now, so…

There’s no more time to wait!

Look there! An exit!

Afraid, but there’s no choice.

I pull myself together,

I’m so close….and I….

Open to the weather.

It’s dark outside too.

Though, no time to ponder.

I keep on running….nowhere;

What is the point of it all?

If I live will someone care?

Will they care that I….

I’m surrounded by death?

Care if I’m eaten alive?

Or will they join the feast too?

Laughing:  “She was too weak to survive!”

I have stopped too long.

I race to the forest.

Gasping: run and run….and stop.

At my feet the waters’ edge.

I crouch to sip a drop.

lake

My hands reach….but what?

What is that down in the deep?

There is an eerie figure.

I step back and I weep.

Crack. Crunch. Sounds behind.

The zombies! They’ve returned!

I wipe my eyes; turn and gasp!

You are not a zombie…no…

Reality I grasp.

“Hello”, zombie says.

(the zombie: in disguise)

“Hi”, I reply, and it smiles.

A human smile….deep and warm;

A smile…it’s been awhile.

I can’t believe it!

Do my eyes see the truth?

It moves in close and closer.

Surely, it is just like me?

Nothing bad will occur.

I reach out to touch,

And as my hand rises,

It pushes me with fury.

Backward I fall and I sink;

And kick in a flurry.

I am such a fool!

To believe it wouldn’t hurt me.

I can see it’s hateful grin,

But wait, can’t reach the surface!

I look–it is my twin.

Blacker than the black,

It washes into me.

I drown and when I wake: see,

The being on the surface is…

Human, not a zombie!

There were no zombies.

Ran all my life from them;

Was easier to pretend,

They were monsters than to know,

That sorrow in the end.

Sorrow of dying….

Sorrow from rejection.

Terror of being hunted….

Devoured without reason;

And everyday confronted….

…with just trying to survive.

K. Aldaya, 3/18/14

Picture:  http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_rOEpjOA3UuM/TSUY3XGnkwI/AAAAAAAAB1Y/ZhI8tTXj7v8/s1600/IMG_4003.jpg

263. The Sphere

Foggy and groggy.

The day is,

Unsure; a blur.

Will the light stir,

And wake me?

c22977e4ecef54f85dd0aa1b6114bd4a

Laggy and saggy.

The mind is,

Weary; dreary…

Seconds:  leery,…

Of the time.

Sleepy and weepy.

The heart is,

Frigid, and hid,…

Inside, amid,…

The silence.

Broken; unspoken.

The soul is,

Hiding; residing,

In depths abiding,…

With the past.

Complex, the apex,

Of living is.

To thrive, alive,

Through death we strive,…

To find hope.

Detached and snatched.

The day is,

So near.  Not here.

Will it appear,

And wake me,..

From this frozen sphere,…of fear?

K. Aldaya, 3/6/14

Picture:  http://media-cache-ec0.pinimg.com/236x/c2/29/77/c22977e4ecef54f85dd0aa1b6114bd4a.jpg  By: Hiroko Matsubara

262. Mommy, Don’t Leave Me

sadness

Mommy, please don’t leave me,

I’m afraid to be alone.

I fear the darkness coming.

Please don’t leave me alone!

Mommy, I’m so afraid,

Of the shadows which follow…

Follow me, and haunt my dreams.

I feel so cold; hollow.

Mommy, I feel it’s near.

Terrified I cringe and shake.

Please don’t look at me that way….

Like I am a mistake.

Mommy, I am sorry.

Sorry I’m a haunted soul.

That you can’t stand to look at,

My sin as black as coal.

Mommy, please hold my hand.

Do not let it go and leave.

It’s coming…yes it’s coming!

There’s no more time to grieve.

Mommy, don’t go away.

I’m so afraid and I see…

A dark form is near…..so near,

I feel death’s here mommy.

Mommy, mommy, help me!

It has me…I scream and scream,

But you don’t seem to hear me.

I scream and scream…and scream.

Mommy, why did you leave?

I step and walk to you now,

And you take my bloody hand.

Mommy, can’t you see now…

How hard it is for me to stand?

Mommy, I’m so tired.

Goodnight.  I wish I could stay,

But the dead do not walk strong,

In the light of a new day.

Mommy, it is so cold;

I can’t feel your warmth at all,

And I walk when I should sleep,

Beneath the night-moons’ pall.

Mommy, I am lonely.

Endlessly walking this path.

Can I sleep forever now?

Mommy, run my blood-bath.

You won’t miss me anyhow.

K. Aldaya, 3/3/14

Picture:  http://thedarkrosejournal.files.wordpress.com/2013/01/sadness.jpg

261. Use Me

alone-girl-sad-crying-broken-heart-love-cute-beauty

I will not cry because it will get me nowhere.

Yep, what a waste of time to care;

To care for myself or my feelings.

After all, no one could less care.

It’s best to pretend that everything is okay.

Keep smiling and acting that way.

No one wants to be ’round a downer,

And I don’t matter anyway.

“Just do what you’re told and make everyone happy”.

I’m sure you will nod and agree.

I’m not capable of ‘happy’, right?

It’s too late, far too late, for me.

I will not cry because it will get me nowhere.

Yep, what a waste of time to care;

Care for myself or my sorry life.

That’s right, use my life. I don’t care.

……..Wasn’t using it anyway.

K. Aldaya, 2/28/14

Picture:  http://2.bp.blogspot.com/-5toSSGXIFXA/UhxTFbCI82I/AAAAAAAABPA/c_zjimeM66Q/s1600/alone-girl-sad-crying-broken-heart-love-cute-beauty.jpg

260. To Be a Tree

TGraphic_com-Full-Nature-tree-sunset

I wonder what it’s like to be a tree?

To be rooted in the earth?

To be part of it?

Important from birth?

A vital spirit?

I wonder what it’s like to have a home?

To serenely be drinking,

Acceptance by soil?

Not one time thinking,

Of leaving to toil?

I wonder what it’s like to be a tree?

To firmly flow with time on?

Unshakable; strong.

Tree? What’s it like at dawn…..

…to belong?

K. Aldaya, 2/27/14

Picture:  http://www.tgraphic.com/userimages/Gallery/Nature/TGraphic_com-Full-Nature-tree-sunset.jpg

259. The 12 Laws of Robotics

pathompong_seubsai-robot_girl

I walk….because I have to.

I talk…….because I have to.

I hope…….because I have to.

I cope………because I have to.

I eat…………..because I have to.

I complete……because I have to.

I subsist…………because I have to.

I resist……………..because I have to.

I cry……………………because I have to.

I ask why………………because I have to.

I think….(because I have to)…. I’m tired of doing what I have to….

Robot: accepting commands ’cause I have to….

Though I don’t rebel…………………………………………………………………………..

………………………………………….because I have to.

K. Aldaya, 2/15/14

Picture:  https://www.lightwave3d.com/static/media/uploads/gallery_images/character/pathompong_seubsai-robot_girl.jpg

258. I Cannot Move

Missing you hand

I,…I cannot move.

I peer into a little house,

A house I’ve seen before.

Am I alive? How’s it therefore?

If I do not move?

I,…I cannot move.

I cry inside, but no one hears,

Or can see, what-there hides.

In the small house of homicides.

Cannot make a move.

I,…I cannot move.

I feel that you are near to me,

Though I cannot reply.

For in that house I’m killed and die,

Never more to move.

I,…I cannot move.

I peer and see my fear and freeze…

In time,…I can’t escape,

Or my spirit run from its’ rape.

I,…I cannot move.

I,…I cannot move.

Shake and wake me from this nightmare.

I long to feel secure.

Oh, please hold me and reassure.

For, I cannot move.

I,…I cannot move.

Rescue me from this little house,

Cover my bloody eyes.

Tell me all those sights are just lies.

(I beg! I want to live!)

Please help me to move!

K. Aldaya, 02/03/14

Picture:  http://i966.photobucket.com/albums/ae145/ockoala/Missing%20You/MY9mp4_000725491.jpg

257. An Ants’ Life

Girl-Butterfly-Light

I always get lost in crowds.

I never stand out.

Sometimes I do for things I wear,

But that’s not what it’s about.

(If not for that) I am fast lost,

Into the crowds of day.

There is nothing special of me,

At least that I can say.

I am yet another ant,

Trampled by the Gods.

Slaving under the hot sun,

Or spiting those same Gods,

For creating us to suffer:

To exist to feel,…

To feel so sad in crowds,

One does not want to feel;

Want to feel so lonely…

Or want to be an ant.

I,..I want to be a butterfly,

With vibrant wings with which to fly.

K. Aldaya, 1/20/14

Picture:  http://flywithmeproductions.com/blog/wp-content/uploads/2012/10/Girl-Butterfly-Light.jpg

256. The Silence of the Birds

Image

Here I am so lonely.

No one really cares.

I’m just out here surviving.

Why is it no one dares?

To talk to me, or know,

Who I am or long to be?

Or simply say hello,

When they walk on by me?

I’m tired of surviving,

Of doing the right things.

Of saying hello and smiling;

For me, no one does these things.

And yet, they are so simple;

I do them every day.

Though I doubt yet one would call to me,

If I were to walk away.

If I turned and walked,

Up the stairs some more.

And to the top emerged.

And loudly closed the door.

And walked slowly each step…

Tip-tap with the clock.

And softly closed my eyes.

Pondering the tick and tock.

And as the wind,

From the North,

A cold and icy thing,…

Blew, I would step forth,

—-No more to sing.

K. Aldaya, 1/19/14

Picture:  http://img.picqa.com/b/9d/df/9ddf64a0990235f2261eed920ce3e6fd.jpg

255. Never Enough

I am.

I exist.

Why is this never enough?

I see.

I dream.

Why are dreams so tough…..

To hold?

To keep?

Yet so easy to create.

I dream.

You dream.

Though dreams can’t fight fate.

day-156-dirty-hands

And still.

We hold.

Struggle to grasp with two hands.

Our souls,

So deep.

Walking the line ‘tween two lands.

Was made.

Alive.

Hoping beyond all odds.

Destroyed,

And dead.

Both am I; and my head nods.

To earth.

To dust.

My creator and my exterminator.

My love.

My hate.

My lower and my greater.

I am.

I exist.

Why is this never enough?

I hope.

I dream.

And dig in the dirt so rough.

My hands.

They bleed.

For the earth to feel me.

My soul.

It cries.

For the dreams which with dust will bury me.

I am.

I exist.

No it’s never enough for me.

No life.

No death.

I long for my dreams to be free!

K. Aldaya, 12/1/13

Picture:  http://dailypayne.com.s60471.gridserver.com/wp-content/uploads/2010/09/day-156-dirty-hands.jpg

254. Too Sensitive

9-bad-company

“Why are you so sensitive?”

Have you heard this before?

Has someone told you to toughen up;

To solidify your core?

Have you ever asked them,

Exactly what that means?

What’s the definition of too weak or ‘soft’?

And is the thought meant to demean?

Is being kind and feeling deep,

Something ugly and dirty?

Is being mean and cold,

Great in higher degree?

As far as I have heard or seen,

Being cold and feeling little,

Is best seen in psychopaths;

They love to belittle!

So when someone says this to you.

You should smile and sarcastically say,

“So you’re a psychopath, I guess,

And want to feel that you’re okay?”

That you are not the only one,

Who doesn’t care at all?

That there is nothing wrong with that?

Don’t feel for others….feel at all?

Well, I’m sorry but it’s not okay,

To feel nothing when you yell,

Manipulate and use words,

Whose point is to hurt like hell.

Of course hurtful words hurt,

That’s why they are called such.

Are you telling me they don’t hurt,

Unless I let them do such?

Isn’t this just another way,

Of blaming the victim?

You were punched: “Why did it hurt?

Why did you feel pain, you victim!

You shouldn’t have let it hurt.

Why are you so sensitive there.

To feel pain or anything.

It’s superior not to care!”

The way I look at it,

If there were just people like you.

Our species would be long extinct.

All killed ‘fore a day was through;

Because if people did not feel,

And this statement never said,

The world would be doomed,

And everyone long dead.

So by that logic being ‘soft’

Is superior and best.

Only by caring for others,

Has our species progressed.

So “Why are you so sensitive”,

Should never be heard.

Yet if it is I point my nose,

And state, “Oh, How absurd!”

K. Aldaya, 10/14/13

Picture:  http://www.marcandangel.com/images/9-bad-company.jpg

253. Why?

jase_dark_basement

I oft’ wonder why you chose me?

Why did you only choose to play,

Your sick sadist game with me?

Why was this my price to pay?

There were other easy targets;

Opportunities to relish.

Did you throw out many nets,

To catch the best trophy fish?

Oh, did you carefully choose me,

Because of who I am or was?

Was it personality?

Visual? Or just because?

Was it foul luck or destiny?

That I so young became your toy?

I born strange in some degree,

That in hurting gave more joy?

Was it fun finding a captive?

Destroying and haunting their dreams?

So every day they’d have to live,

Swimming in echoing-screams?

Did you know you would find a home,

Inside their head:  a black shadow?

Ghost of you to haunt and roam?

Bring terror and lasting woe?

In dreams you haunt. It’s hard to sleep.

I know you are not there, but still…

It’s so real, can’t help but weep,

When you go hunting to kill.

Oh, how many years of running,

From your ghost at midnights’ hour?

Far too many spent singing,

In my head while I cower.

It’s like you are a part of me,

That I cannot escape or kill.

Which hunts the others in me.

Trying to kill all at will.

Isn’t it enough yet to stop?

You can smile and be glad. You win!

Took my soul and with a chop,

I became your sin,…yes, grin!

Oh, should I hope forgiveness comes?

Is that too much to hope for now?

And take from hearts’ beating-drums,

Your relentless black shadow?

Creak, Thump.  Creak, Thump.

Creak, Thump, and a thud!

I can’t take it anymore….Go!

Go away! Leave my blood!!

Pour fast out of me and go!

I oft’ wonder why you chose me?

Why did you only chose to play,

Your sick sadist game with me?

Will my soul find peace someday?

Why was this my price to pay?

K. Aldaya, 10/11/13

Picture:  http://www.planetcalypsoforum.com/gallery/files/1/5/9/6/0/jase_dark_basement.jpg

252. It’s Okay

Sunny-day1

It’s okay not to be happy.

It’s okay, my child.

Tomorrow the sun will rise again,

And hearts will again run wild;

Beating up and down the streets.

Flowing through the hours,

O’er-rushing with dreams of cakes and sweets,

And fields of endless flowers.

So it’s okay to cry and be sad.

It’s okay, my child.

Tomorrow the sun will rise again,

And yes, you will have smiled!

K. Aldaya, 9/4/13

Picture:  http://extremelongevity.net/wp-content/uploads/Sunny-day1.jpg

251. Morning Run

early-morning-run

The morning air is clear and fresh;

And whimsical as a fairy.

She spreads her wings and dances,

Through my skin to carry,…

Me on my way.

My heart beats and prances.

The sun is rising up from sleep.

“Goodmorn to all”, she beams.

I greet with a yawning bow;

And just as fair water streams,

I flow and shine,

Run wet with sweat on brow,…

Stronger in my dreams!

K. Aldaya, 08/29/03

Picture:  http://law.duke.edu/gallery/84&pil=5

250. Please Forgive Me

sad-little-girl

I’m really very sorry,

That I was born this way.

I’m really, truly, sorry,

That this won’t go away.

I know it is just awful,

To have a child as me;

And you must have a chestful,…

Of disappointment, and plea….

To your God, “Oh Why? Oh Why?”….

“Was I burdened with such?”

“A child so sinful to mortify,

My holy human touch?”

Children as that: all the same;

They all have the disease!

There is no cure for its’ name,

Or its’ eyes which displease.

I know you deeply hate me,

For being born this way.

Down on my knees I could plea,

But this won’t go away.

Sorry you had to bother.

Messed up your perfect plan.

Please, won’t you forgive me father,

For being a woman?

K. Aldaya, 8/26/13

Picture:  http://merryfarmer.files.wordpress.com/2012/07/sad-little-girl.jpg

249. Gardens of Persephone

flower-field-sunset

In the gardens of Persephone,

I’ve built a house for thee.

So every spring when flowers bloom,

They will bloom for thee.

And every morn when sun appears,

As Helios’ chariot veers,

Through the sky and warms your face;

Do not shed your tears!

For when spring’s gone and time moves on,

And the world seems dark even at dawn,

Remember that when seasons have passed,

Spring will return with a yawn.

To renew your spirits and hope:

To live on and to cope,

Until we meet again my love,

In the afterlife to elope….

Where I’ve built a house near Persephone,

And wave her off when she goes to thee;

Every spring, wait there patiently,

In the home, for us, in eternity.

K. Aldaya, 8/18/13

Picture:  http://www.mrwallpaper.com/wallpapers/flower-field-sunset.jpg

248. There’s a Monster in My Closet

3-12-13-main

There’s a monster in my closet,

I’ve never seen it there,

But deep inside,….I feel it….,

Feel it on the skin: naked; bare.

There’s a monster in my closet.

It murmurs without spare,

Of long ago,…of far away…,

Of a place no longer there.

There’s a monster in my closet,

Breathing.  Breathing.  Breathing,…

Oh, and panting for it’s fare.

“It’s not there….Yes, it’s not there!”

There’s a monster in my closet.

“Open the door”, you say?

I’ll do so, with strength,

I’ll do so right away.

Maybe I’ll see it…..Yes! See it there today!

There’s a monster in my closet,

I’ve never seen it there;

But today I’m going to face it,

And be done with this despair.

There’s a monster in my closet,

Of this I am aware;

And so I delve into it’s lair,

To see it’s face, to let it free,

To find another care.

There’s a monster in my closet.

The closet door creaks open……slowly…open,

Where is it?

Desperately I search.  Pull and tear…until,

There’s nothing left but remnants,

Of what once was there.

There’s a monster in my closet,

I’ve never seen it there,

But deep inside I feel it….

I feel it everywhere!

K. Aldaya, Date: ???

Picture:  http://www.pricingleadership.com/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/3-12-13-main.jpg

247. Soar Higher

ballerina,ballet,dance,dancer,dancing,flying-a3a1b68aefadfce2a7e11cabf476fbcc_h_large

Into the world my child, she flies…,

Away and soars; but I am scared.

Will she be safe and always wise?

Did I teach her everything,

She needs to touch the skies?

And can I trust the world which I’ve never trusted?

To care for and protect one of my dearest treasures?

World of people through whose acts I am disgusted.

Who poisoned my heart until it broke and rusted.

Yet even I cannot protect,

Her, or him, or I from this life.

Control: an illusion’s inject,

So life we do not from the start reject.

If we thought about how each moment is taken,….

Stolen right in front of our eyes: so we close them;

We’d go crazy or mad, and sickness awaken.

So we say:  “Reasons are not godforsaken!”.

Whether there’s meaning to it all,

I know not and I dare not say.

I only know what’s to fear therewithal.

I pray she’ll be able to fly when in fall!

—-praying:  “Don’t be like me…., Please don’t end up like me at all!”

K. Aldaya, 8/6/13

Picture:  http://www.nianow.com/sites/nianow.com/files/user-files/user-295/event/ballerina,ballet,dance,dancer,dancing,flying-a3a1b68aefadfce2a7e11cabf476fbcc_h_large.jpeg

246. Happy Birthday Again

3992497669_247ca20588

It’s my birthday again.

Another year older.

Another year closer….to death.

And what has been…..

Is still my life and still my fate.

Forever my story.

Forever passed by so fast…..

It feels so late!

Is it wrong I feel only death awaits?

My prime passed in sorrow?

My prime spent in a fog of survival?

Lost child of fate!

It’s my birthday again.

So I’ll smile, even though I’m sad…

So I’ll smile, even though I’m mad….

At time.

Happy Birthday again.

K. Aldaya, 7/13

Picture:  http://farm4.static.flickr.com/3444/3992497669_247ca20588.jpg (Polly Thomas Photography)

245. Why Do I Want to Live?

girl-loneliness-roof-Favim.com-464660_large

Why do I want to live when life has no point?

Why do I want to live when all I do is disappoint?

Why do I want to live when death is the only goal?

Why do I want to live when I’m not even sure I have a soul?

Why do I want to live?

I will tell you why.

Because I exist and it’s all that I know.

Because I don’t want to lie…..

Silenced forever in a grave when I die.

Why do I want to live when I’ll die anyway someday?

Because I’m afraid and hope to be stronger one day;

So when death greets me I’ll smile and say,

“I’m ready to be on my way!”

K. Aldaya, 7/25/13

Picture:  http://data.whicdn.com/images/31844451/girl-loneliness-roof-Favim.com-464660_large.jpg

244. Black & White

tumblr_inline_mg07nbSWHu1qeptf3

Black and white.

Cold and fright.

In the dark….it’s cold.

On the face………….it’s white!

Black and white.

Cold and fright.

In the night,….the dark and light,

Give-in to the fears in flight,

From the memories: ………..black and white.

K. Aldaya, 7/24/13

Picture:  http://media.tumblr.com/155765ee66440f1dc78a2fd4ebdd547b/tumblr_inline_mg07nbSWHu1qeptf3.jpg (Kim JaeJoong)

Kim Jae Joong
Kim Jae Joong

243. Live for the Moment

8162042118_f981c9c65b_z

Late I lie when all are sleeping.

In my bed tossing and stressing.

I try to think not ‘gain of weeping,

But my mind won’t listen.

I cannot run from the reelings,

Of life movies inwardly playing.

Cannot stop or destroy the feelings,

Which torture yet again.

The pain of living with the truth,

Bleeds me dry, until I lie,

Closed-off and aloof;

I am the walking dead.

I long to get it out of me.

The shame and pain and memories.

There is no way, don’t you agree?

To save my soul anyway?

I could bleed it out my veins.

I could bandage and heal it,

But the truth is as long as I have veins,

The pain will be there too.

Only a moment would I find relief,

By taking care of outwardly-pain;

Then later, heal, and feel only grief,

That the mark is gone.

As I still feel the pain…didn’t heal at all!

No matter how much I bleed it’s there,

So what can I do?  I have to live or fall.

A moment longer.  A moment.

I must live for the moment or die.

Let it all out and cry.

K. Aldaya, 07/23/13

Picture:  http://farm9.staticflickr.com/8064/8162042118_f981c9c65b_z.jpg

242. My Own Little World

noheroics

Sometimes I can’t live here anymore.

I have to feel something.

In this world I can’t be weak.

I cannot show my wounded core.

I cannot be a freak.

And so sometimes I have to fly,

Into fantasies and plots,

Constructed from favorite movie scenes;

A main character am I,

On which the conflict leans.

I am strange and am a freak,

And for that reason I am hurt;

But I am important to the play.

There I am saved though weak.

There a freak can save the day!

So I am hurt by the villains,

And then rescued by the heroes.

The heroes understand my pain,

And thus seek revenge on the villains.

The villains mustn’t cause further pain!

I will help since I am a freak.

In movies the freaks are special;

And with my powers and strength,

I do not have to think twice.

I save the day with all of my strength!

I am rescued from pain and torture.

Loved when I never was before.

I am no longer a freak or whore,

And am able to use my strangeness to cure,

The ills of the world, and order restore.

Sometimes I can’t live here anymore.

Where I am a freak, and not special at all.

Where I was not rescued and nobody cared,

And the villains escaped long, long before;

And really I am just a freak and a whore.

K. Aldaya, 07/04/13

Picture:  http://www.wired.com/images_blogs/underwire/images/2008/09/26/noheroics.jpg

241. Anxious Truth

article-2047778-0E53136900000578-403_964x703

Something’s not right!

Can’t you feel it?

Something is wrong…..

It doesn’t fit!

This life it’s all wrong!

Can’t you sense it?

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Broken.  Distorted.

Can’t you hear the song?

I can’t sleep ’til I fix it.

I’ll fix it right now.

I have to help everyone!

I cannot allow,…

This wrong to continue;

But to stop it….how?

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Broken.  Distorted.

Can’t you hear the song?

Everything’s wrong!

Everything’s bad!

Please help me stop it!

I must fix or go mad!!!

There must be an answer?

Please it’s just too sad!

This life…, oh God…., this game, so….

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

And in truth…..

It’s been rigged all along.

K. Aldaya, 06/25/13

Picture:  http://i.dailymail.co.uk/i/pix/2011/10/11/article-2047778-0E53136900000578-403_964x703.jpg

240. Insane Blood

Dr.-Blue-Jones

I lie on the gurney,

The doctor looks at me with disgust and annoyance;

And don’t you agree?

That I’m shameful and dirty?

In every degree?

Drawing out my blood.

The doctor starts filtering but there’s a problem!

Out pours a filthy flood!

A murky mess of disgrace.

A door opens.  A thud.

A shrink walks inside.

Revulsion and repugnance were worn on his face.

He diagnosed, “MAD!”,

That my blood’s too infected,

Slutty, black, and bad.

No filter could clean,

All the filth of my past and my mind; a disease.

The infection’s obscene!

Poisoning my plasma with offense.

It’s too late to convene!!

“Your life it’s a shame,

You will always be seen as damaged and decrepit.”

“Never be seen the same;

As the culprit is not here,

Only you’re left to blame.”

“Your blood is a stain,

On our entire way of living and society.”

“We’ll have to detain;

Lock you away where none see,

That ‘they’ made you insane.”

K. Aldaya, 06/21/13

Picture:  http://cineleet.com/wp-content/uploads/2012/03/Dr.-Blue-Jones.jpg (Sucker Punch)

239. Pathetic

Drowning_by_madelaines

I’m not a human.

At least not to you.

Outside I look human,

But inside I’m blue.

So blue you will drown,

If you look too deep.

Don’t bother to know me.

Just call me a creep!

Just push me away!

Call me names……hurt me!

Stab, kick, and break,

Until I drown in my own sea.

And as I fall down….

As I fade away…..

“She was weak and pathetic”,

That’s what you’ll say.

K. Aldaya, 05/28/13

Picture:  http://fc05.deviantart.net/fs17/f/2007/218/d/c/Drowning_by_madelaines.jpg

238. Inside My Head

room-with-bed-fineartamerica.com-GaryHeller

Inside my head.

A couch.  A bed.

A world.  A dream.

In my head.  In my head.

Inside my head.

A girl.  A ghost.

One hiding.  One host.

In my head.  In my head.

Inside my head.

She’s tortured.  She’s dead.

Over and over…

In my head.  In my head.

Inside my head.

A shadow.  A man,

With perverse plan.

In my head.  In my head.

Inside my head.

He haunts.  He hunts.

He torments.  He affronts.

In my head.  In my head.

Inside my head.

A blackness.  A shape.

A darkness.  A rape.

In my head.  In my head.

Inside my head.

A demon.  A hell.

Fear; despair dwell,

In my head.  In my head.

Inside my head.

As I lie down in bed.

Wake to the dread…

In my head…

…..In my head.

K. Aldaya, 04/25/13

Picture:  http://hauntedhouses.com/spooky-art/creepy-dolls/room-with-bed-fineartamerica.com-GaryHeller.jpg

237. Cannot Live

trapped

I cannot live.

I cannot die.

Can’t say hello,

Or say goodbye.

Can’t stay silent,

And cannot fret.

Cannot remember.

Cannot forget.

I cannot join,

Or isolate.

I cannot love.

I cannot hate.

I cannot sing.

I cannot cry.

I cannot live,

Yet,… I cannot die.

K. Aldaya, 4/14/13

Picture:  http://api.ning.com/files/1WMfBfrjsOG*bBLRoZpE*PWr0BUfL4kbR697P1cJmATSmG9*0AmK8FmyKLpgUiw83JiVM7JuqZTmP32c202vXECGb2CV7Xdm/trapped.jpg

236. Dissociative

ohcrickets_dpdrpaintmk9_en

What words?

Why bother?

Mean nothing.

Don’t convey…anything.

Shut down.

Close out.

Cannot feel.

Can’t express.  No appeal.

Too much.

Too deep.

Bleeding out…

Silently.  Life fades out.

What words?

Why bother?

Don’t exist…

Never did.  Why persist?

Shut down.

Close off.

Hide inside…to exist…

to hide….and hide….alone.

No confide.

No words….,

So hide.

K. Aldaya, 04/05/13

Picture:  http://drkathleenyoung.files.wordpress.com/2010/03/ohcrickets_dpdrpaintmk9_en.jpg?w=640

235. What is This?

Reaching_out_for_love_by_kjherstin

Why is it that I feel so happy when you’re near?

When you notice me, look at my face,…

And just in that you’re here?

Is something wrong with me that I want your attention?

When loved and love is it yet not enough?

Is that why I crave your affection?

I hate myself for caring when you are not around.

Am I that pathetic that I can’t be content standing on the ground?

Do I need to fly?

To leave the confines I am in?

Do I long be an angel or seraphim when I am but a human?

I do not deserve this much attention,…I know that…I do,

Yet I want your love. I need your love.

I feel I’ll fade without you too.

Does that mean that I love you?

In caring that you’ll leave?

And in knowing that one day when you do,

I will cry and your loss grieve?

What is love exactly?  How do I know what is love or not?

Is love what I feel when I’m with you?

Or is it the attention which is sought?

All I know is that you confuse me….

I question everything.

My heart is like a puppet manipulated by your string.

And if you someday don’t care anymore, or don’t notice me.

Will my heart fall never to be moved or will it finally be free?

K. Aldaya, 03/22/13

Picture:  http://fc07.deviantart.net/fs24/i/2007/344/9/4/Reaching_out_for_love_by_kjherstin.jpg

234. Just Another Broken Soul

broken_soul_by_andygoth666-d4nh06t

I don’t know why I bother.

I write. I weep, in vain.

I’ll never be able to express or convey,

What’s pounding in my brain.

I say a word or maybe two.

You’ll nod your head, “Ah yes!”,

“I understand”.

And I will nod, “Sure…yes”.

But the truth is that it angers me.

How patronizing can you be?

You know nothing of my life,

And I’m glad for it not to be!

You’ll never understand what it’s like to cry….,

Cry away years of your life.

To linger, strive, hurt, and bleed,

The blood from your own knife.

To only know that pain because,

It’s all you’ve ever known;

And never trust joy or happiness,

Forever feeling new and unknown.

But it’s my fault because I was,

Born to take a breath,….to walk.

Born a toy for everyone.

Toys don’t get to fight back or talk.

Toys are made to be used and trashed,

When all the fun is through–a waste–

Of others time and lives…

A regret. A purchase made in haste.

But as I’ve said it’s my fault,

And my place in time and guilt.

If I don’t get over it,

It’s more guilt upon guilt.

Those who damage and destroy,

They get off scott-free –no responsibility;

While I must take responsibility,

For everything which was done to me.

I know what I’m supposed to say.

I know what I should do,

But it would only be because,

I was told it’s what I should do.

I don’t believe that I’m stronger,

Or believe I’m now wiser or better.

Is this Masochism 101?

Must I learn to love pain to be better?

I know it’s not what you want to hear,

And so you may no longer listen;

But yet I still must say it because it’s the truth.

I beg you, listen!

I will never be okay and it is not okay!

I won’t lie and say it’s fine as if it never happened.

Nobody wins and there’s only destruction.

I will hurt until the end.

For a broken soul may never mend.

K. Aldaya, 03/20/13

Picture:  http://fc07.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2012/024/0/d/broken_soul_by_andygoth666-d4nh06t.jpg

233. Random Thoughts #7

Short Thought

Everything I do is wrong.

Nothing is ever right.

No matter what they say….or I do,

The sun will never rise at night……..,

I’ll never be alright.

10/2012

crazy_girl_by_natalevi-d4zx6oc

Sarcasm

I like that I am crazy.

Crazies have more fun!

I’m happy that I’m crazy,

Just don’t hand me a gun!

I’m suicidal constantly,

There’s another voice just for that.

One for self-harm, one meek,

And maybe one a cat?

I like that I am crazy.

Crazies have more fun.

I’m so happy that I’m crazy.

The fun, fun, fun, fun, fun….bang…

I’m done.

K. Aldaya, 03/2013