The Waking Up Is The Hardest Part
May 31, 2010
Sometimes I wonder if I could ever be known,
Just for the writing of a simplistic poem,
Writings on the walls,
Of my heart beats and heart stalls,
Every emotion that rises and falls,
Ink that’s been spewed over broken promises and told lies,
Wishes that have been wished on by shooting stars in the skies,
Dreams that have come true and ones that have been broken,
Words eaten up and left unspoken,
Nights to remember and nights to forget,
Dog days of summer when two love birds first met,
Stories written of fairytale fiction,
Truths of pain and mental self affliction,
Memories created,
Pictures painted,
Some things good and others tainted,
Sleepless nights with tossing and turning,
Eyes wide open, blood shot and burning,
Alcohol sipped on and drenched in the system,
Doubts of whether I could ever out match him,
Questions asked and never answered,
Questions asked and regretfully answered,
Realization of times to move on,
Understandings of the right to be wrong,
Discovering that which is heaven sent,
Searching for your sentiment,
Interrupted trains of thought,
Novelties high and soon to drop,
Fighting for the possibility of not being looked over,
Another year past and another year older,
Everything on the table and up for grabs,
I’ve written about it all I’ve been keeping tabs,
All throughout I’ll never be known,
Just for the writing of a simplistic poem.
