I like to walk through empty streets
And look into lighted windows
To catch a few glimpses
Of people whose lives
Are different than mine.
I like to think about if I had the choice
What would I choose?
The family laughing around the table
With a free-spirited joy,
The siblings fighting over the TV remote
With good-natured competition,
The mother carrying the sleeping child upstairs
With love in every motion?
There’s a boy at a desk
Bent over his schoolwork.
A couple argues intently
With fingers pointed and accusations.
A few windows are dimmed
With the gloom of loneliness.
I walk past the snapshots
And form them into a collage
Of a wo
Breathe in, breathe out
One foot in front of the other
What does it mean to be truly alive?
Watch the people going by
And wonder if they know
How astounding they are
A miraculous creation of flesh and blood
You’ve seen the way excitement can change a face
Eyes lighting up with an unmatched wonder
And the thrill of captured interest
In a performance of body language
You’ve seen the way a person can smile
Without it reaching their eyes
Or the way someone laughs
Without it seeming real
Every person is a member
Of the grand cacophony
Of talents and potential
Race and gender
Failure and success
A never-ending list of variables
You
I thought I saw a masterpiece
With colors vibrant and bold
But then I saw the faded paint
Smudged and cracked and old
I thought I saw a spider web
Where natural beauty lies
But then I saw the spider there
Catching helpless flies
I thought I saw a butterfly
With wings of lovely hue
But then I saw the warning there
Of harmful poison, too
I thought I saw a bright blue sky
With sunlight shining bright
But then I saw the stormy clouds
Blocking out the light
I thought that I saw me, myself
Good and wild and free
But then I looked, and saw again
And saw the problem was me
A Little Game of Cat and Mouse by fantasylover42, literature
Literature
A Little Game of Cat and Mouse
A little game of cat and mouse
A playful chase
But I’m the cat, for a change
I follow silent footsteps and creaky meows
Flipping switches so I can see the path
She turns a corner
Fidgets and darts away when I follow
Looking nervous
I wonder if she remembers, too
That he used to live here
That this was the domain
Of a lazy king
I scoop her up
And at hearing her purrs
I wound myself by remembering
Hers are all I’ll hear anymore
I carry her out to the cold garage
And place her on the ground
For this is her home
And that was not her place
The worst words
I've never heard
From anyone
But myself
It's impossible to block at the voices
Screaming at you in your head
Words that you've never heard
From anyone else
Things that no one else
Would dare say to your face
It's impossible to stop the tears
As the words get to you
Just like they always do
You've never felt so broken
And powerless to stop it
You look into a mirror
And see a face you don't recognize
Hands clamped uselessly over ears
With tear-stained cheeks
And eyes that beg you to stop the pain
It takes a moment to remember who you are.
I step onto the path
One cautious foot after the other
Testing to see if the ground will hold
Gingerly starting the exploration
The ground holds.
I begin to walk
I'm beginning to understand the path
I see glimpses of things I've never seen
What is and what could be
The path is more comfortable now.
I begin to run
I feel as if I know this path
The excitement to get to the end
And the wonders it holds
The path ends.
Caught up in my world
I didn't see the edge
Now I'm afraid of letting go
Because of the promise of falling
My hand slips.
I'm lying at the bottom
I haven't felt the pain yet
But I can see the drop
And at the t
I want to wade into the water, and not care when my clothes get wet.
I want to scream at the top of my lungs, and not care when it hurts my throat.
I want to learn, and not care when I'm wrong.
I want to smile, and not care when the world protests.
I want to sleep, and not care when I'm woken up.
I want to live, and not care when it's time to die.
I want to love, and not cry when my heart is broken.
The Magic of Mountains by fantasylover42, literature
Literature
The Magic of Mountains
For a week I'd forgotten
Forgotten stresses of life
Forgotten worries I'd soon have to face
Forgotten what was painful to think of
Forgotten that there was anything to remember
The mountains made me young again
With life-long dreams of olden times and horses
And thoughts of running barefoot through the world
Leaving civilization and rationality behind
There's not much that can be forgotten forever.
One comment trips it
Sends away all of the contentment
Makes the place I'd fallen in love with
Fade back into the bitterness and loneliness
Of heartbreak and weariness
Even the mountains couldn't take away all the pain.
I'm not an artist.
My fingers don't understand how to make that picture. It doesn't matter how many times you explain it, I'll always get frustrated and give up. I just don't have the patience, I guess. I see my friends around me they're good at it. They make art that makes you stop and just look at the sheer beauty of it. They have the talent. I don't.
I'm not a musician.
My songs always fall just a little short of any mark that can be considered adequate. It doesn't completely click, how all of the chords fit together, how a melody should work, what key it's in. I'm too discouraged by the success of people close to me. It's a big
Days and nights pass
With melancholic moods
And pointless laughter
Thoughts you wish you never had
And empty months to lose them in
Fingers tapping messages
And words you wish you could take back
Or make seem more real to both of you
You can't tell, somehow
And now our words seem empty
Forced
Dancing around the topic
Too big to talk about
Reaching out and pulling back
Taking chances and falling off the edge
To the worlds you don't know
So well
And you're not sure you want to.
Well
Everyone has always said
Summer is a special time