Writings of a Phobophobe.
You’ve forgotten how to love.
You’ve forgotten your own worth.
Suppressing your needs for another,
She calls and you answer.
At the beck and calling
Was all you remembered doing.
The beauty of love,
Is that it is mutual.
I’d show you,
If you’d love anew.
Life without a dime,
Deemed society’s crime.
You’ll be a mere mime,
In a race against time.
When I buy,
I don’t quite want it.
When I comply,
I don’t quite agree with it.
When I try,
I don’t quite fit in.
When I cry,
I don’t quite feel it.
When I lie,
I don’t want you to believe it.
When I bid goodbye,
I don’t want you to take it.
A nostalgic scent
Of unwanted feelings and crying eyes;
Of unfulfilled dreams and hunger to succeed;
Of unfated soulmates and lingering touches;
Of unwritten poems and stashed thoughts.
The smell of haze
And a hazy future are synonyms.
A reminder of we’ve come far,
But not quite far enough.
Run away
From the world you loved,
They never understood your ways.
Fade away
From those dreams you had,
They won’t take off anyway.
Everyone’s got their vice.
A gentlemanly swindler.
A high-rolling miser.
A family-driven chauvinist.
A romantic cheater.
A glamorous gold digger.
A kind sex addict.
A life-loving drug abuser.
A religious cultee.
What you would see;
Always half of what it is.
They ask to fight or to flee;
Perhaps just let it be.
Restrained,
By the thick ropes and chains.
Society,
Is the one that changed me.
Artist,
Was all I wanted to be.
Happy,
Was all I ever seeked.
Money,
They will give when you obey.
Glory,
You get with compassion frayed.
Winners,
Are ones who betrayed trust.
Losers,
Are those who gave too much.
Since when did it become this way?
Since when did we make it this way?
Kinship is soon nothing.
Friendship is soon vanity.
Nature is soon dying.
What about us?
Soon we’ll be alone and crying.
Cash we seek;
Glory we chase,
But man, I’d tell you that’s just surface.
Even with all the success
But our hearts misplaced,
It’ll be real doom
No matter what we taste.
But that’s really just a peek
At the consequence we’ll face.
“We want happiness,”
And that’s all we say.
Look at us now —
Alive but dead.
What do we have now?
“Blindness to kindness,” I’d say.
Can’t you see
You should let me be?
Before I flee,
Just set me free.
Held captive by twines of the city,
All we needed was our minds at liberty.
Brilliance is not a spark of wonder.
It is a consistent and persistent current that
One day gets strong enough to cause a sunder.
killgwen 