My last LJ post ever.
It has come to show in my mind, that I loathe every aspect of this live journal concept. This shall be my last entry, hope you guys enjoy it. Im sick of people getting personal with me, well the ones I don't feel need to. I have always kept kinda private on line, and don't know really why I dropped my barrier. I plan on going back to the Kennith I used to be, sorry to upset some of you, but hey that's life. I have thought how I should end this project. With another self pittied vent post? No. With some last words? No. With a poem? I think so, atleast that will leave some clueless and still pondering.
"No More Holding Back"
It came upon me,
with a dear sweet wind,
tearing through my cold bones,
and licking my desertion to a T.
The sails were picking up the breeze,
the ship tossed back,
forth,
side to side,
and rocked with a harmony of destiny.
Where do I go from here,
what path do I tread,
should I just swing away,
go down in the dust,
and grace the ground with my,
ripped,
tattered,
torn,
bloody,
shell?
Who the fuck cares anymore,
I'm tired of acting questions,
tired of worrying,
sick of knowing you,
sick of being me,
and tired of loving so many who don't deserve it.
Let's grasp a different kind of science,
hold the reins of a dead horse,
cry in the rain,
curse the night sky,
and draw a blank,
you tempting temptress,
you healed me with a straight razor,
you bled me with a gasping breathe,
and you curse me with your grace,
beauty,
and inspiration.
Tell the wind not to howl,
tell the coyotes to conform,
and the red ribbons of solitude will comfort me,
take me in,
and squeeze the death outta me,
stand in your chair,
and shout to the heavens,
that I am now banished from having passion.
It's been.....well it's been being I suppose. Have fun.
"No More Holding Back"
It came upon me,
with a dear sweet wind,
tearing through my cold bones,
and licking my desertion to a T.
The sails were picking up the breeze,
the ship tossed back,
forth,
side to side,
and rocked with a harmony of destiny.
Where do I go from here,
what path do I tread,
should I just swing away,
go down in the dust,
and grace the ground with my,
ripped,
tattered,
torn,
bloody,
shell?
Who the fuck cares anymore,
I'm tired of acting questions,
tired of worrying,
sick of knowing you,
sick of being me,
and tired of loving so many who don't deserve it.
Let's grasp a different kind of science,
hold the reins of a dead horse,
cry in the rain,
curse the night sky,
and draw a blank,
you tempting temptress,
you healed me with a straight razor,
you bled me with a gasping breathe,
and you curse me with your grace,
beauty,
and inspiration.
Tell the wind not to howl,
tell the coyotes to conform,
and the red ribbons of solitude will comfort me,
take me in,
and squeeze the death outta me,
stand in your chair,
and shout to the heavens,
that I am now banished from having passion.
It's been.....well it's been being I suppose. Have fun.