What is true of us?
That of summer days,
or that when the cold winter dawns.
Swinging between ends
But always longing for the other.
Who are we to crave.
To crave only what we can’t reach,
Only that outside the cup of our palms.
To crave the attention of the moon and the stars.
Bag for my aunt (matching prints with her daughters).
Bags and a pencil case for my other girly cousins.
New stuff in my room :D thanks dad.
I asked my mother today,
“Are problems getting larger,
Or am I just knowing too much?”
Some days I wish I could
Stay the fool that I was,
When I was still in a cot.
The cot that seemed big to me at the time.
Huge, in fact.
Huge enough for me to laugh, and breathe.
Huge enough for me to reach, but not feel the four walls that lock me in.
Because you don’t feel trapped when you don’t know you are.
And what you have is enough for what you know.
My realisation has grown. Perhaps too much,
In that same cot.
Any way I turn brings me to face
The four walls that surround me.
Right to the tip of my nose.
There is no longer room.
Neither is there air enough for me to breathe
Everyday is a waiting game for
Another bruise to ache,
Another tragedy to watch.
Knowing brings feelings.
And pain hurts more when you anticipate.
If an apocalypse were ever to happen, I hope that some music will play all around the world so that everyone will disappear from the face of the earth with style. I would most prefer it to be some grand symphonic orchestral masterpiece. Or maybe some blues. But otherwise, I would like to be wiped off this planet to this song. That would be cool.
But anyway, some sexiness to make the week better one.