Day 80 (Part 2)

“My Life, A Mess.” Day 80 (Part 2)
I write these lines,
To make sense of the senseless,
I walk alone through fire,
I can’t quench my thirst.
I’m suffocated by the wind,
It’s like I’ve passed industry,
And opened myself to the sky.
Suffered greatly in my mind,
I’m not trying to ask for pity.
I’m documenting me, myself and I.
It’s simple, and nothing more than that,
Nothing less than what I’ve said,
This is just my life, a mess.

“You Make Me Sick”
You make me sick.
My blood is freezing,
My eyes are seething,
I’m sweating blood,
From my ears,
Your fears,
They mean nothing,
You smackin me around,
I’ll smack you right back.
I’m sick of your anger.
You are a danger to me,
Fuck no you ain’t sorry.
I can’t be fine.
You make me sick.

“We are Ghosts”
Those with closed eyes can see,
More than those with open eyed gazes.
You see, in darkness, we can grow.
In the light of day we die.
Our lives are dictated by,
Stars, the fates as far and wide as eveyrthing.
We are guided by lifeless visions.
Rallied by the spirits of the ancients,
For we are ghosts.
Visions of what you fear the most.
We will be divided by our difference.
Even though we could unite.
We are not made by what the color of our skin is.
Or the color of our hair, or eyes.
We are what is in our soul.
We are ghosts.
But we are not dead.
And we will not stand for this.

“I am an Alien”
Is it really a part of me,
Or is it a made up thing?
Am I my own enemy,
Have I fell my own security?
Have I opened up too far?
Pud down my guard,
Can people be trusted?
I don’t know why,
But I keep watching the night sky.
Somedays I wonder if I’m an alien,
And that I am a part of an expirement.
That one day, mothership Zeta will return.
And my alien bretheren will tell me,
“Awaken brother, you are coming home.”
I would finally understand,
Why my utopian ideals,
With no difference in gender rolls.
That would be why I never fit in,
I’m an alien,
This place is not my home.

I heard there are ghosts in your derams.
I’m sorry that I didn’t let you know,
My voices won’t stop,
I’ll speak without thinking,
As If I’m not even speaking,
I don’t want to worry you.
I’m still me.


A supposed ghost said to be sitting on a chair.

Image via Wikipedia



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