Why is life such a trapease act.
Balancing one thing after another,
person after person, love after love, life after life.
Why does anything or anyone ever have to leave?
and no, don't go blaming God for these uncertainties.
The pieces left are still your pieces, yourself scattererd.
Only because you let them scatter.
Like an unfinished puzzle a child forgot to play.
The past seemed so easy,
only untied shoes, and unchewed gum
occupied the depths of our heads. the skeletons in our closets
then, only seeming to come our on halloween
when having sweets delivered to you is a given
and two faced people are officially accepted,
in the society we pretend to hate, but strive to pursue
as if being 14 with a bottle of bleach, black smothered eyes,
a finger down the throat.
Fear of your reflection is a given in this lifetime
for although you recegnize those eyes, those cheeks, that smile.
You still look at the glass as if it were broken on the floor
With seven years of bad luck on that conscience.
Carrying that dark cloud around with you each day.
When are your dreams to come, thats sun to come back again.
Each step leaving an imprint on the path you walk on.
It can only show you that baby you forgot to have,
those drugs you forgot to leave,
that life you always wanted,
but somehow got left behind will all the rest.
coming to grip with your path can be a struggle.
Grabbing hold of your hands and shaking out whats left.
Not much fight left for the battle has thickend.
Weapons may be the only option left,
like words cutting that boy like glass, that girl like ice
freezing their insides to grow up to be something like you,
I don't think so, that girl that was 'ugly' grew up to be beautiful
featured on channel seven each week, earning each rose,
and dodging every stone you may of ever thrown at her
that boy that was 'small' grew up to be a man.
more handsome than you have ever seen
and handing out those roses to those beautiful girls
These insecurities forgotten by all but left so thickly in your head.
Break out, scatter, for you are also the most amazing person alive
as if holding that grammy, that stanley cup,
walking down that red carpet,
not promised in this lifetime, but given through that dream
that one dream that we can be whatever we want to be.
If life is like a trapease act, thank God for the net.
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.