I was sitting on my chair... a few seats from the door. The sun was also starting to set... it was the last class of the day. Bored and a litte tired of all that has transpired, I sought to do something...write. :-)
Today approaches it grave
with memoirs none to save
for if I hold them close
like thorns pierce, as that of a rose
I see him walk along the road
all alone but with not much load
the world wieghs heavily on him
and the sight of joy is just so slim
So here I am sitting on a chair
I wait for the next to spare
a lecture or introduction he/she may
but my mind will for now go astray
Take me not on the path you see
for I am nothing, simply me
Know my heart will wait and stay
Even as you go; until that day
I look again, it's him I see
deadened [his] face as hepassed me
his silence speaks a sort of art
a blank canvas i see...not a start
His is a story all do know
but on whose eyes will he then show
for if ever a day were like this
he'd be better of without bliss
The tides of life bring us all
a myriad of times, and stories tall
For if it was just as simple
...and if time were only so ample
I look for the last time now
an empty stomach, and why this now?
I hear an applause from afar
like the light of a morning star
Amidst all these he does hope
for a while, a pause; ceasing...mope
If only he was who he wasn't
then maybe...not... as it just can't
Nor will rest draw him near
for his heart holds so dear
a symphony of memories
a name so forgotten, buried in tears
If time only knew his ramblings
and grow all the little saplings
All is wishful thinking; and it's name
so does life, as it has played its game.
These are the ramblings of a man who has born witness to things we all know... to things we see each day... to things whilst from a 2nd hand view are so easy to manipulate...but in reality, are as daunting when attacked alone. I write to let things out, to escape...not really... just to unload... like going to the comfort room to "succeed"; I do what I do.
