in my mind

A character in this reality, each of us is a character in each episode. Everyone else is watching in another reality. Who is to say what is known? What if all that is known is just perceived? Everything we know is almost everything that we have been told. If our ancestors figured their own truths, why are we not looking for our own?

-in my mind

Thursday, April 30, 2015

The poem of you, I, and the circle in between

Perception is not the truth
the truth is the biggest lie
lie down waiting, pretending
to avert the queens strings lit fire

Finding oneself standing
in a room where everything is wrong
the feeling of not belonging
but hold on to every wall
the ground can shift
to any side
at any time
but you held my hand
and you brought me to the king

The queen sent sharp eyes
and there was nothing but cold
the breeze, so cold the breeze
you just could not feel it
but numb my fingers, numb my toes
and shivers hit my body
and I felt an earthquake in my lungs...
in my horror I imaging verses
of your beautiful plain sight
confusing
this is confusing
how did you learn to be so good at it?
these emotions
awkwardly trying to grasps
something called love
then
I learned to pretend
with denting smirk

While I lay under the queens fire
the king turns his head
and I wanted to see tears
from the corner of his eyes
his back is what I feared the most
Turning ghost before the queen
I saw myself lie
trying not to wake from infinite sleep
it was just a memory trip
waking up to a strip of fire on my skin
realizing anything is better than being here

It is supposed to hurt more than the fire
when the king held his sons and smiled
But it felt like another day
trying to be a kings son
hearing... "You are the queens son"
hearing... "she brought you, you are hers"
but still forcing my way into his heart
pushing, at all cost
trying to get my share
until there was no space left

"Perception is not the truth
the truth is the biggest lie
emotions and distortion
you should have just abort"
I tell myself that
as I look back
time and time again
I wish I did abort


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About Me

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Some stories are fabricated, some stories are imaginative, some stories are not your own, and some are factual, but all are stories that is an individuals and he must share so that he feels the world part of him, not just him part of the world