(no subject)
Do you know that moment? That moment of knowing? Where you see all around you to which a moment hence you were completely blind? Out of the mist your soul emerges from its slumber. I grasp so firmly that you leave me behind. NO! I am tired of wandering and stumbling. Stubbed toes and bruises become deep gashes over time. This is no moment to make some silly rhyme. Just because those around you excel, does not mean in the depths you should permanently dwell. Twiddle your thumbs idly once more, and thus life will close its door. In drunken stupor the real thought emerges that you should be rid of your splurges. Logic is a fickle friend, never willing to bend. All this rage, hate, and fear come to rid you of your sense, leaving you cold and clammy hence. Beads of sweat across your brow, not another worry it will allow. Clench your fist a little more, until at last you swore. So what! I did that, but still not that! Is it a crime to hold it dear? No matter, into my heart it will sear. Melancholy, I hear your song! Sweetly, sweetly the call to sleep, perhaps there we will justly meet.