devon da poet
No Push On The Swings
How am I supposed to push myself forward all alone?
In my head it stings, no push on the swings, no hug near the stream and no kiss for a dream.
I need to be self-motivated I muse, but I’m confused by life’s complicated things.
And it seems like my life is falling apart, a shipwrecked heart and a lonely soul I got.
What’s non-constructive is so hard to forget, and I’m all upset all alone on the swings.
I keep thinking too hard to find a way out of the mess that I’m in but I remain discarded and saddened, thus reminiscing.
The toil I’ve been through don’t help one bit, in fact, I’m grieved even more.
I’m enslaved by myself, by my hurt and my losses.
My past errors is like a horror, they’re scars in my mind.
I wish my wounds would bleed the stale blood away.
I wish all pains would one day fade away.
But as far as I can tell, I’m stranded here.
My past is always my present, how do I let go of such devastation; a distorted imagination?
I’m like a river with no mouth, I flow to and fro but has no destination.
I try to keep calm and stay focus, thinking positively.
I’m swinging alright but it’s so difficult for me,
‘Cause I keep losing momentum.
At times, I feel like an orphan, sometimes like an abandoned baby.
I feel like me, ‘cause nowadays I’m starting to believe that’s what I really am.
One push would've changed it all.
One push would've made me swing forever.
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