A plea for pause.
If I could write a thousand words
to fix this broken fate,
my pen would run out of ink.
I could write those thousand words,
but it would still be this way.
I cannot help but feel as though
it's all come to an end.
I am not weak at heart.
I pray with my being and all my might,
but you can be brave and still feel that fear?
I can be wrong.
Selfish or cruel.
But to be weak would be
I must never.
I cannot succumb to those thoughts,
to that doubt.
Confident I must stand
before this changing tide.
I would rather we stay put.
To plant like a tree
and slowly age in this wind.
But there are other plans in store
as time drags me across the floor
by my hair.
I will beg, and I will scream,
but the change is coming.
We all run out of air
I do not wish these burdens on you,
to feel lost in the noise.
To long for yesterdays where
all seemed so black and white.
The grey was our folly,
we clawed for the ends.
How I yearn for the days with so little at stake.
The leaves and the meadows my only thoughts.
The shallow and hungry, the have nevers and nots.
Now with the is,
the was keeps churning.
I grow and I gain, and I lose and I miss.
I will swim out of these waves to
Drift along no more.
About the Creator
Writing for fun and as an escape from the everyday. After all, what is life for if not to create?
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