The ideal me
is still the same
but more resilient.
Not taller or smarter,
because who would that be?
A fantasy so built up
the original is gone.
I will not change myself,
and you shouldn’t
wish me to.
25:236
A village
of the lingering,
settling on the living
like a heavy cloak
on small shoulders.
They’re too scared
to let go,
and you’re too scared
to leave.
25:235
Your worse fear
is to become a monster,
to the point
you’ll rip out your beating heart
and crush it
until your lifeless body
is you again,
your ideals trapped
until you reach
a world
beyond a broken heart.
25:234
The two halves
that made you
do not own you.
They can try to shape you
but in the end
you are your own fate.
Change the world
and never give up
on your beliefs.
25:233
Missing a presence
that never got to grow,
a future planned
that no one else dreamed of.
Take my hurt
with no context
and think me crazy,
not understanding the grief
of a parent
who never got
to be one.
25:232
A weathered corpse
of my good intentions
rest behind,
exposing sins
too cold to whisper
while my burning throat
pours out lies
you lap with eager tongues,
and still I wonder
who the world
will pity more
in the end.
25:231
Our last words
were formal and cruel
but no less true.
A chance meeting
to rescind those sentiments
has a back turned,
standing tall
but shaking
at the thought
of what could have been.
25:230
Organise your corner
of chaos
and bask in
the small order,
ignoring all those
looking in
who see only
mess and missing.
25:229
Restore the collapsed
by stacking them
on the new,
forcing their weight
down on strength
until it’s gone
and a newer batch
will now be forced
to carry them.
25:228
Imagine a magic
that gives all a choice
but eliminates heartache,
would you cast it?
Would it help?
Scribbled Thoughts 