Caught between darkness and light, a seemingly never-ending fight, Full of panic, hope and fright. Don't know any other way to describe, this black written scribe. A poem written by someone who feels lost, and pleads for forgiveness at a cost. But somehow finds themselves back at square one, and can't seem to figure out, when all of this will finally be done, and over with. Holding on to hope, but it feels like a myth. Not gonna lie, I have constantly wanted to quit. But the light, the faith, it pulls at my spirit, for this, I thank the darkness, it has it's place and I appreciate the hope, and the possibilities of holding on, carrying on and knowing that, there's beauty in transition, between darkness and light, that isn't always scary, that isn't always bad.
Telling me, that my deep observation, of the darkness in the world around me, is what makes me sick... what a laugh, it's been my own life that has me sick, and wondering why, I even exist. Like telling me I asked to be hurt, and what's worse, is you believe that it's true, just like I used to. Excuse the fact, that I can see, the dark that lies underneath, the light. That I can see through the filter of perfection, into the pain and deception. The part of me that brought out the life in me, now sucks it back, away from me, but grateful I have to be, that it isn't as bad as it used to be. So I payback the hell I brought with birth, like a never-ending curse, and remind myself to shake off the dirt and reach to the light before it gets worse.
If there’s a shell let me hide
This feeling I can’t describe
I gave to get
And instead I got to give
I traded one for another
I find pieces of beauty and laughter
And stash them in my closet
I save them for a rainy day
An emotion hoarder,
That’s what I am
A beautiful shell is only beautiful if it stays intact and doesn’t fill with dirt
I was born into a beautiful shell
And dirt got thrown in
Cracks turned into broken pieces
I try to hide deeper inside but the cracks expose me every time.
I’m afraid I slowly lose the concept of repair
But here I go, with the ugly duct tape on this broken shell
I need a place to store my emotions
For this emotion hoarder
Scary stories, monsters, creeps, darkness all around
In entertainment, we set aside an occasion
to scare ourselves into devastation
but the real monsters do not live in horror movies
and darkness isn't just for scary stories
Monsters can live everyday in daylight
and darkness can linger and lurk in sunlight
So why do we engage in creepy tales, fantasies and stories?
Why do we dive into horror in all it's glory?
Don't we live in a world full of real horror?
Aren't we surrounded by monsters that turn us into mourners?
Maybe a lot of us resonate with things that are creepy and dark
maybe that's all we've known, maybe that's how we leave our mark.
It can be hard to relate to sunshine and rainbows
when rain, storms, hurt, pain and blow after blow is all we know
So we come down to live in fantasy land
Trying to make up a fun time and not live life so bland
Be it making us sad, happy or frightened
Bringing on emotions or becoming enlightened
I wish life was only flowers, love and joy
living in a bright and technicolor-ed world
but alas here we are
living with bruises and scars
on the surface and in our heart
so let's live life to it's fullest
and try our hardest to forget and ignore
the real life monsters that live in the dark.