I Will Say

Perhaps you laugh so much,

That you forget which one is real--

Which smile is genuine,

Which chuckle is true?

Or maybe you're so tattered

That you put on a mask.

A happy, healthy layer

That disguises your dark tear stains.

And it might seem like you're here,

But you're only far away--

Caught in your own head,

Hit by daggers from your mind.

They think you've got it all,

But you feel like you have nothing.

And no one knows,

Because you won't tell them--not ever.

I hope that you'll trust me though,

That you'll wipe of all the makeup,

And come out of the shadows.

In that day you'll be free, if only slightly.

I pray you'll someday be brave,

With the courage to cry,

And the audacity to laugh.

I wish you'd find your voice to sing.

Oh but you still cower

In secret, hidden chambers--

Unreachable by mankind.

For what you think will be forever.

One day I will reach you,

On a warm and sunny day.

You'll venture from your tower,

And finally I'll have the chance to say…

Cease to Shine

She decided the end was near.
The stars and moon would cease to shine.
He said he had not one fear.

He dismissed his usual cheer.
Her bellicose demeanor was a sign.
She decided the end was near.

The musician would shed one last tear.
Over her he would continue to pine.
He said he had not one fear.

As a dictator, she was never dear.
On despair she would frequently dine.
She decided the end was near.

To him her plan was never clear.
She yelled, “All power is mine!”
He said he had not one fear.

She would always stop and jeer
At the victims who let out a whine.
She decided the end was near.
He said he had not one fear.

This is a poem I wrote some time ago and I happened upon it today and thought I would share it. I would enjoy hearing your interpretation, because I'm not sure if I even have my own. 

The Onlys

It's funny how large we make things.

From molehills to mountains,

Indifference to anger,

And minutes to hours.

Each passing moment grows--

Taller, longer, bigger, greater.

There exists no subtleties.

There exists no small second.

Would the world be different,

If everything were as it should be?

Small, silent, and still.

If the mountains were in fact small hills.

Would people treat you differently,

If they saw you for what you are?

Quiet, indifferent, and scared.

If your smile wasn't a grin?

Would we savor those small moments,

A sunrise of only yellow,

Or the wind only touching our skin?

Would we treasure all of the onlys,

Even if they weren't big? 

Here is a perspective that I thought would be worth sharing. I am trying to adopt this as a way of looking at things. Must everything be so grand for us to enjoy it? I would prefer the opposite, to be able to enjoy the small things, for the subtle moments are what make up our lives. I think they're worth paying attention to.