a hand and it’s five fingers
each one a story
that gives emotions;
one for love,
when life is frail
the second for age,
when death tries to steal
a third for romance, when life is young
my fourth a prize-gift, she is next to me
and the fifth for Life, which allows me to remember…
life is my sweetest friend
when i go so does my love
it’s the only thing that’s real
and i have eaten pain, so familiar

i tried once, to kill it everyday
spat at the brilliant sun
and dug my heels into the One
and in the end i saw everyone
go away, like the pain i lived
and now, my broken heart steals
what feelings I had buried
beneath the hate and all the hearts
And I ask, “what did I do, my friend.
I squandered my precious ones,
all for the empty fear that ate
my heart…and I should remember,
when I start again…I should
a want to be myself.”

:: 09-29-2014 ::