Some days I wonder, if I know who I truly am.
Does anyone ever really know who they truly are?
I'm constantly changing, for the better, for the worse.
I get up in the morning sometimes... and wonder if I know who the hell I am, I'm myself in the mirror.... looking at some unknowing person in return. I reach out to touch her... but she fades away in the darkness. Does she hear my screaming?
The winter snowflakes took its first toll in the city... And into my heart. My confused heart and my curious soul. I've got so many things on my mind... and they're weighing down my chest. Like how the snow does on the grass after a severe storm passes... and that sunlight symbolizing hope passes through... and when that hard storm falls on my chest, my heart that has been buried deep down will explode, and all I know will break loose, and lose control... and then what?
The things I need to say, are weighing on my very body. Tearing those protective walls I have ever built down... Do I dare build a door? Or a window... I need some protection from myself.
I am simply complicated.
Do I apologize?
The wind chimes are silent tonight... The wind isn't surprising them with its earthly tickle against its metal skin, and the chime isn't laughing in return. The world is silent. Fallen. Cold.
With each drop of rain and snow falling, it signifies a change... And who knows what this change will bring. Maybe I will finally recognize the girl who looks at me every morning. Staring hopeless into the unknown world of destruction and robotics.
Will anything she sees represent what she will become? Or is she searching too hard. I sit and wonder, for that poor girl wants so little, and needs so much. Her hands, swollen and bruised from picking so many roses of life, and bandaged, from when its cut her so deeply.
Pages are burning away in her life, and yet, she has so many surrounding her, yet how can she feel so hollow? She's thankful, that the river bank she resides by will continue flowing and falling over those stubborn rocks who are so faithless as to move kindly out of the way... for, what would she do if it froze? She wold be frozen also.
As Robert Frost once said:
"The Woods Are Lovely, Dark And Deep... But I Have Promises To Keep
And Miles To Go Before I Sleep, And Miles To Go Before I Sleep.."
And as she travels those deep, dark woods, and falls, she knows someone, somewhere will hear her lost, frozen, piercing cries, maybe that girl, will eventually find her wants, and get the things she needs... and understand what happens to be eating her inside...
Does anyone ever really know who they truly are?
I'm constantly changing, for the better, for the worse.
I get up in the morning sometimes... and wonder if I know who the hell I am, I'm myself in the mirror.... looking at some unknowing person in return. I reach out to touch her... but she fades away in the darkness. Does she hear my screaming?
The winter snowflakes took its first toll in the city... And into my heart. My confused heart and my curious soul. I've got so many things on my mind... and they're weighing down my chest. Like how the snow does on the grass after a severe storm passes... and that sunlight symbolizing hope passes through... and when that hard storm falls on my chest, my heart that has been buried deep down will explode, and all I know will break loose, and lose control... and then what?
The things I need to say, are weighing on my very body. Tearing those protective walls I have ever built down... Do I dare build a door? Or a window... I need some protection from myself.
I am simply complicated.
Do I apologize?
The wind chimes are silent tonight... The wind isn't surprising them with its earthly tickle against its metal skin, and the chime isn't laughing in return. The world is silent. Fallen. Cold.
With each drop of rain and snow falling, it signifies a change... And who knows what this change will bring. Maybe I will finally recognize the girl who looks at me every morning. Staring hopeless into the unknown world of destruction and robotics.
Will anything she sees represent what she will become? Or is she searching too hard. I sit and wonder, for that poor girl wants so little, and needs so much. Her hands, swollen and bruised from picking so many roses of life, and bandaged, from when its cut her so deeply.
Pages are burning away in her life, and yet, she has so many surrounding her, yet how can she feel so hollow? She's thankful, that the river bank she resides by will continue flowing and falling over those stubborn rocks who are so faithless as to move kindly out of the way... for, what would she do if it froze? She wold be frozen also.
As Robert Frost once said:
"The Woods Are Lovely, Dark And Deep... But I Have Promises To Keep
And Miles To Go Before I Sleep, And Miles To Go Before I Sleep.."
And as she travels those deep, dark woods, and falls, she knows someone, somewhere will hear her lost, frozen, piercing cries, maybe that girl, will eventually find her wants, and get the things she needs... and understand what happens to be eating her inside...
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