The same emotions, the same feelings, the same arguments regenerated for generations and generations. You could compare it to fashion, recylced, reused, restyled but really it's just the same.

lalalallaa

We are here. So should that be it or should we question it?

We are placed on this earth and given knowledge. Then we have to develop our own thoughts, but are they really ours? We take the influences of others the experiences from the past and develop our own thoughts and opinions.

Naivety is lost and we develop a cynical take on the world.

Are we born with these views, hidden in the depths of our mind just waiting for the correct stimiluous to trigger it. Or are do we develop them as time goes on and as we grow with experiences. Or is that just the same thing?

Going through the motions,
Yet feeling none of the emotions.

Trying to please,
Trying to scare,
Trying to see,
Why the fuck I care.

A trickle of a drop,

A spell almost broke,

A secret nearly lost.

Alcohol

The burnt orange,

The tempting smell,

The ugly end,

Yet still,

You reach and wretch,

Yearning for the bottle,

The want for more,

The need for life, 

To see past the clouds,

Experience the real,

Dull the senses,
And fake the smiles. 

Stars.

Look to the skies,
Can you feel the stars,
Hear them breath,
Listen to their story,
Open you're heart,
To the beauty of the night.

Demons.

Run from the demons,

You'll die eventually,

It might be slow,

You'll feel the pain,

But it will end,

And that's ok.

The L Promise

A word, an expression,

An unknown emotion,

A feeling, a thought,

twisted like the ocean,

I opened up the gate for you.

I let you in.

And you responded,

By tearing down the castle.

Was it naivety,

Or was it hope?

I would like to think the latter,

Yet I’m thinking maybe not.

Again and again,

The scars are reopened,

But will they heel,

Again and again.

You stabbed me thrice,

You made me bleed.

I fell on the kitchen floor,

Where I saw you leave.

When every emotion is felt for you,

What am I to do?

You are my umbilical cord,

I am dead without you.


I was reading a lot of Sylvia Plath when I wrote this. Odd because I didn't particularly like her style or what she had to say.