You're It.

[rewiiired]

Dreams go out the door,
the winds of fate slam it shut again.
Another rude awakening,
someone's pinching you,
pulling you back to
the cold and dark and alone again.

Value receeds again.
It hit you like lightning and then
just ran the other way,
like a game of tag:
looks like your it.

You think: there's got to be
a better way out, and you know
that drowning lost its flavor long ago.
Time to add something new
to the brain stew.

The arsenol in your mind,
building up behind your eyes
moves to the tip of your
sharp tounge,
and you bite it for now but for how long
can you eat lead, my friend?

Too many nights flew passed you.
Too many days you drug you feet through.
Too numb in this zombie state of being.
Too long since you really did something.

Do you even know yourself?
Do you know the only hand that
holds you back is your own?
Why are you stabbing it?

Such a short applaud it would be,
the sound of one hand clapping...

 

[kc_utopia]

Right on! We hold ourselves back. It's so sad, and yet so true. When we're young, we plant trees and watch them grow, and when we get older, we hang ourselves on them. It seems a most appropriate death, for someone with a poetic life. Little do we know...we could do so much more if we only came to reason that we must live out our lives to the max, even if it may not seem poetic. The only spiritual truth I have found to be evident is the idea that we are currently alive, and this life doesn't last forever.

I live by this motto: Carpe Caprum (seize the goat). I'll no more be holding back, but don't you ever let go.