Have you ever had those days? Those days where, no matter how great or amazing, no matter how loved you feel, no matter how much you realize that what's done is done and there's nothing that can possibly change the past, you still dwell on it? 

It doesn't escape your mind. You try and try, to no avail. Nothing can rid your head of this daunting image that seems to pour through every pore, soar through every sore. 

Nothing helps. 

But it will be okay.

Sit back. 

Take a deep breath. 

Life carries on.

It's so hard to understand sometimes, I know this. Believe me, I know. 

But life goes on. And you will make it through. 

I'm going to try to write a poem,

but I'm not sure how it will go. 

Every porous, every single gaping abyss; hope it flows. 

I'm perched atop death row. 

I hear the songs of crows. 

I want to say the words "I Love You" to everyone that I have known. 

The top will surely blow. 

The dark side; it'll show.

This earth doesn't have a fucking clue what will soon unfold. 

I can't do this alone, 

For I lack a pure soul. 

If life was sure to cease tonight, what standards would I hold? 

Sometimes I Write

Sometimes I write about things that I've seen.

Sometimes I write about places I've been.

Sometimes the words just don't quite seem to fit.

Sometimes processing thoughts can be a bitch.

Sometimes I write to escape life's cold grasp.

Sometimes I want nights to forever last.

Sometimes tomorrow is too far away.

Sometimes the nights are longer than the days. 

Sometimes I write simply because of words.

Sometimes I wish I could fly like a bird.

Sometimes I rhyme, and sometimes I don't.

Sometimes I think, and sometimes I won't.

Sometimes my words are unprepared reactions.

Sometimes I can't rid myself of distractions.

Sometimes the world seems so lovely and dear.

But most times I really just wish you were here. 

Don't be sold by pretty words,

Or caught inside another's world,

Don't be hostage to the lies,

Wasting all your precious time,

Rotting away, day after day,

Hoping for flowers to be sent your way,

As our rock of life spins, 

You need just a grin,

And not to be fooled 

When they tell you you've sinned,

Because at the last day's end, 

Or prior to when life begins,

Nobody ever seems to know

What truly exists. 

So don't seek solace in pretty words,

To me it all seems rather absurd. 

The red hot sun is like napalm on the earth today, but not here. This place of beauty, where the trees, housing the birds that sing such sweet melodies, grow tall and firm; where the smoke delicately rolls off of the inscent and through my lips. Where the grass sunbathes, in its abundance of green. This place is perfect. This place is exactly where I want to be. This place is home. 

They dance elegantly across the sky;

Their majesty, simply so far away. 

But still intriguing to my weary eyes,

These glimm'ring things exalt life to this day.

The sky looms overhead as a disease,

Mountains engulf the sun; it fades to black.

I sit here and I wait, my soul appeased,

Though happiness, this place, it seems to lack.

Across the darkened land they flicker on,

The wind is calm and everything lies still. 

All sense of any puissance now gone; 

A crispness in the air; a subtle chill. 

I watch 'til morning comes and day's renewed,

Enthralled by wondrous chaos in my view.

Funny

Funny how we expect everyone to have the same perceptions as we do; how we see only the best in others. How we forgive time and time again those who don't deserve it, and shut out those that need a second chance. How we try so hard, but no matter what, it seems to never be hard enough. All of these things that wear and tear at us, bringing us beyond overwhelmed. All of these things, that are supposed to ultimately make us stronger. Yet we never feel like we're really becoming any stronger, simply like we're spinning in circles, going absolutely nowhere. Funny how we always find a way to blame our faults on everything around us, without ever considering that maybe, just maybe, the problem lies within the man in the mirror. 

Funny how none of these things are actually funny.