Back to the beginning
Back when you were born
And your love was brought into this world
Uninformed, unbiased, unknowing
Original Sin be damned
(more) And the more time spent
In this treacherous globe
You have grown ill with hate
Ill with hate and spite for yourself
Not others, though they had bestowed
This very hate upon you
You understand this hate
And you despise it
Detest and deplore it
Yet you can do nothing
But suffer your own hatred
Wishing you could go back
To the beginning (less)
The amber bottle traveled more miles than many humans would in a lifetime. It had seen countless environments, people, animals, weather, and most importantly, signatures. The glass time capsule contained the mark of individuals who found time out of their day to make it. A rolled up, crinkled, yellowed(more) sheet, covered in the handwriting of soldiers. Mothers. Children. Teachers. Construction workers. Drug addicts. Couples. Grandparents. Authors. Surfers. Masters of English, French, German, Mandarin, Korean, Japanese, Latin, Arabic, Spanish, and countless others. These signatures carried by waves. The capsule marked by salty blue water and time. No destination in mind, the glass bottle floats until it is found by someone. Their mark is made, and it is cast back into the depths, where this will be repeated endlessly. As abysmal as this may seem, the surf that washes it ashore is doing something few humans have done successfully: it brings humankind together. All of the signatures joined in harmony on parchment older than any of those leaving a mark. Together they float on, endlessly joined together in peace and love and friendship as they float in the surf. (less)
My emotions are like a city.
In the glow of day, cheerful and busy;
Interacting with others.
In the black of night, melancholy and strained;
Singular in their efforts.
Bleak like the near empty subway train;
(more) Evil like the criminal youth parading the streets.
Until finally sleep takes over;
And I am a bustling city once more. (less)
The woman looked down at her dress. She has worn this dress a hundred times, but it had never looked so dark. Midnight rolled on the silk and coal dust coated the lace; so furiously void of color it suffocated her. She felt old and worn down by the(more) dark engulfing the dress. It consumed her soul as it consumed the soft material that enshrouded her body.
Her heart began racing; shaking the cloud around her. She needed to get out. The woman ran towards the front door, as a primitive nature rose from inside her. The front door opened and suddenly she was lifted. The darkness exploded in an eruption that would shake the heavens, releasing an aurora of splendor. She looked down at the dress. Color now flourished where black once reigned. Every shade of orange, blue, yellow, red, purple, green, and everything in between. Light pierced her body and her soul was free. She felt young again.
The girl turned around to look at the house. The inside was devoid of anything except the black oil that filled every crack. She did not look for long, for the colors and light around her were too magnificent. The girl then realized something.
Everything looks black, when you're in the dark. (less)
My foot itches. I don't move to scratch it. Moving would break it, the silence. I've been curled up on the floor for hours now; who knows, it might be more than a day. I can't see any clocks and I don't move to see. Moving would break it,(more) the silence. Staying still for so long is bliss. I feel as though the still air around me, takes on the role of a shield, sheltering me from the abuses outside. Any sound, any stress, any strains or tension, struggles to permeate my shield. The violence and hate outside, hurts me to my core. Why do we detest each other? Why are we so loathsome and putrid to our fellow man? I hate it, yet I can't do anything about it. There it is again; hate. It's starting to penetrate my impenetrable fortress. I cannot move. Moving would break it, the silence. I can only hope that when I uncurl myself, when I stretch myself wide and open my trust to the world, that the world does not decimate me with its malevolence. We are all people, yet we destroy each other. Why? Because that is life. Survival of the fittest. The only way to help fix it is not hate.
Love will fix it. Love binds us together in ways unimaginable. Hate destroys and love resolves.
On the surface I'm fine.
I laugh and smile and speak.
What lies beneath, is different.
I cry and grimace and roar.
On the surface I'm happy.
I talk about it.
(more) What lies beneath, is miserable.
I scream about it.
On the surface I avoid the gaze of an old friend.
What lies beneath, is tortured.
I long to look at her.
On the surface I am fine with what happened.
I put up a front.
What lies beneath, is loneliness.
My front is barren and collapses.
On the surface I'm level.
I know exactly what I'm doing.
What lies beneath, is confused.
I struggle to figure things out.
On the surface I'm healthy.
What lies beneath is not.
On the surface I was never damaged.
What lies beneath has fresh wounds.
On the surface I am strong.
What lies beneath used to be.
On the surface I am happy.
What lies beneath will be eventually, too.
On the surface I see a light.
What lies beneath, sees it too.
When words fail, so do countries.
When words fail, so do cities.
When words fail, so do businesses.
When words fail, so do marriages.
When words fail, so do friendships.
When words fail, so do families.
(more) When words fail, so do people.