Living in a bubble divided by the world.
United by faith.
Powered by an intoxicating heartbeat of dreams.
With only music left to feed the soul.
A gasp of wind from far within,
Reaching out for you and me,
And just like that time stood still,
At the crack of dawn,
Not knowing what would be.
Truth be told you’ll never know,
that most the time I’m on my own,
in the crowd I’m always seen,
yet the darkness still creeps in;
The eyes that seemed to understand,
all they did was play a game,
and so the clouds roll over now,
midnight strikes- who do you love?
And that charming smile of yours,
i wish i knew just what it holds,
for those hopeless mere support,
but those in fortune something more;
After all this’s what we have,
some sweet sorrow and sour embrace,
for you a poet i nearly became,
but after all it’s just a game.
True as the wind from east ,
life with you had little ease;
Like a fast train your look would strike,
straight through that mask of glass.
A wick that made my candle burn,
too short it was so just in turn,
in darkness I was left to live,
for life no longer had a will;
For all the lessons I have learned,
now I knew for what I burned,
a candle that my flame would light,
and my world would then go bright.
To the girl feeling lost, sad or confused,
to the girl inside you that you don’t want to lose,
to the tear that of helplessness does not speak,
but the one of magnitude of your own personality.
For all the times that you’ve been bored,
and those that they tried to have you torn,
for your aura of success bespoke,
and by it they were left in awe.
Yet the feeling was just of shock,
for you left them with a goal,
the intimidated you did not pursue,
nor did you stop for a simple ‘i do’ .
To settle down was not the hurdle,
but just to settle for you was unheard-of,
as you wanted someone who the world circled,
and not those who a globe only doodled.
The stem of the desire became a burden,
as your goodbye was a safety curtain ,
for a little crazy you always longed,
and when it arrived it left you torn.
And the days of courting became a memory,
as they only saw it as male victory,
after that forced dominance you did not lust,
for men forgot how to earn their rights.
Lost. Not in who she is. Nor where she’ll be. But in the puppet show in which she’s the lead.
Disappointed. On a constant quest. Not for the dreams. But for the soul.
Torn. Between oceans. Longing for the world. Never not missing home.
Persistent. Always to rise. Not to be someone’s toy.
Certain. Failure she does not see, for a warrior she found within.