What’s petty
Is when people with low self-esteem
Have to put other people
Down
Just to try to raise themselves
Up
Because they hope
That by distracting everyone
And making somebody else the piñata
Nobody will take a swing
At them
A quick question
So I’m fairly certain I think in English,
But what, pray tell, do multilingual speakers cognate in?
People who have known both since before the age of ten,
And speak as fluently as the natives.
Even more, does their mind have to translate from one to the other,
Or does it blur it all together?
I walk home
Barefoot in the blistering heat
Plugged into music
The soundtrack of my life
Weighed down by baggage
I can’t leave behind
Maybe I’ll be rescued
From my eternal journey
Or maybe I’ll just have to make it on my own.
Stuck on the median,
Caught up in life’s steady flow.
I look both ways before I cross the street
So I won’t unwittingly stumble down the wrong path
All the while, I pray reality won’t hit me.
I’m scared you’ve changed
From the way I know you were
I’m scared you’ve become
Somebody I don’t know
I thought that somehow what we had would last
Stuck reliving memories of our shared past
I’m scared things will never go back to normal
Scared to be caught forever in this stage of being formal
I’m scared that that person I once knew
Is destined to never again be you
I have these internal conversations
Constantly chattering in my head,
And sometimes the words flash before my eyelids
As I hear them enunciated clearly in my mind.
I think everybody has these run-on thoughts
Linked haphazardly by random occurrences
Or chained firmly to the voice of reason
Not always what to say, but how to say it,
Not always what to do, but how to analyze what others do.
To watch silently while others laugh,
To speak out while others shrink back.
That clear, even, little voice which seems to be accentless,
Judicially and deliberately measuring every statement,
And gasping when words are blurted out
Without it’s prior consent.
My innocence has been tainted
I try to hide behind a subtle subterfuge
A game I play with myself
To give me some excuse
Trying to remain faithful in everything I do,
I tell myself its OK,
but I know its just a ruse.
I’m keenly aware of my heart’s blasphemy,
With every pulse of life.
Wishing I could cure my insecurities,
And somehow end my strife.
Waiting to rediscover myself,
So far away from you.
It’s funny that
The most alone you can ever feel
Is with other people
They turn their backs on you
And leave you out to dry
Without caring that maybe
You have feelings too
So many people
Are scared of relationships
Are scared of others
Are scared of getting too close
And then being stabbed in the back
And in the end
Their chronic fear of love
Is what hurts them the most
The idea is beginning to blossom
That perhaps
I was not as nice as I should have been
And the thought is beginning to occur
That there has been a wall
Between us
For quite some time
And I’ve just begun to realize
That I can’t pole vault
This inherent barrier
And that maybe
The only way to make things better
Is to apologize
Blindly
Hoping my voice carries
Over the enormous divide
And that somebody is there
To hear it
And watch
As that wall
That’s kept us separated
Is blown to smithereens
But then
That’s all dependent
On your acceptance
Which I’ll admit
Openly
I don’t deserve
Why isn’t my poetry happy?
Or at least more mushy or sappy?
If it seems to come across as depressed,
That’s only because these are emotions I’ve long suppressed.
It’s not like I’m some morbid freak,
Or like I think sweet thoughts are weak,
Merely that I like to keep the joy inside,
A source of never-ending light.