When we were young

Death was viewed

in the abstract

We saw ourselves always existing

As if we our immortal

Death was something

in the far distant future

It was only as time marches on

That we become painfully aware

of our morality

Become painfully aware

of our impending demise

Death

is seen less as an abstract concept

And more as a sad reality

This

is when death becomes scary

Because you realize

It cannot be avoided

So instead

We must enjoy the time we have

For we cannot

Spend our life

Being scared of our demise

Being scared

of our own morality 

I

I am the personification

of lost time

Of days long since past

I am the memories

That you have long forgotten

I am the things

That you refuse to think about

The things

you don’t want to think about

I am the personification

of lost time

I am you

I am everyone

Thus I am no one

I exist

But only in your subconscious

Only in the back of your mind

When I was younger

I thought

I was born too late

I believed

That I should have been born earlier

I was embarrassed

Embarrassed about my age

As if I was born into a world

That had long since

Passed me by

I was nostalgic

for a time I never knew

Now that I have gotten older

I no longer feel embarrassed

No

Instead part of me feels sad

Because part of me

Can’t help but feel

That I was born too early

Confused?

So am I

I guess

That this is my life

To always feel

Like I’m in the wrong time

In the wrong world

As if there is a world

In which I do belong

But I have missed it

Maybe in another life

I will find it

For now though,

Life continues

Here comes the storm

The strong wind

The pouring rain

The rising sea

The deafening silence

No one is safe

Safe from the storm

But we try to fight it anyway

The fight consumes us all

It consumes our thoughts

And our actions

Until it becomes second nature

Then it consumes our habits

And finally our character

Just part of who we are

In our effort to fight the storm

We instead become it

We become

what we feared most

What those around us fear most

Then we call it progress.

We are the storm

We are the reason for

The strong wind

The pouring rain

And the rising sea

But most of all

We are the reason

For the deafening silence

For we have caused it

And yet

We call it progress

We call it progress

When one is in a dark place

Sometimes

The only cure is family

And being surrounded

By their laugher and their love

Because darkness

Cannot survive in an atmosphere

Filled with love

I know

It sounds corny,

But it is true

Sometimes

Only your family

Can remind you

Of who you are

Of where you come from

And how much further

You still have to travel

Life goes on

And so must we

And so must we

Here's the link for the Audio. 

https://app.box.com/s/o1x7o1a5zzo8epnwbtt7tpbixzeqztmb

This emotion

It is new to me

It is something

I never experienced before

Something

I never felt before

They call it love??

This foreign emotion

That I feel

It is strange

It is so very strange

When I’m with you

This strange emotion

It keeps making itself known

I can’t help,

but to express it

At first it felt weird

It felt awkward

Like something one should

Should never ever feel

But now

Now it feels wonderful

This emotion

It grows deeper

with every passing day

Is

Is that normal?

It feels normal

Weird

Is this

Is this why people love, love?

Is why people

People constantly write about it?

Is this why people

People want to feel it?

Of all the emotions

that I have ever felt

This is the most strange

This is the most powerful

This is the most painful

Yet it is the most beautiful

This emotion

Does it ever go away?

The robber robbed the bank

The bank robbed the people

The police came

And only one went to jail

The system

showed the bank compassion

And as for the robber?

Well,

it threw the book at him

The robber stole money

The bank stole livelihoods,

But the bank walked free

And the robber rotted in jail

The robber robbed the bank

The bank robbed the people

The police came

And only one went to jail

Death may knock on my door

But I shall not answer

I will ignore its somber call

Answering its call

may be inevitable

But I shall delay it

For as long as I can

Death may knock on my door

But I shall not answer

I will ignore its somber call

Most people curse their mortality

But I shall rejoice in it

Death shall not make me regret life

Regret my very existence

I do not curse my mortality

No

Instead I curse death’s hold on me

Curse its ability to scare me

Curse its ability to sadden me

Curse its ability to keep me up at night

I do not curse my mortality

But rather my perception of immortality

The preconceived notion of my youth

That death would never touch me

That it would always remain a stranger

That it would only happen to other people

That preconceived notion

Gave me false hope

And for that I curse it

I curse it more than I curse death

and my inevitability of answering

that somber call

Worship me,

Worship the powers that be

Believe in my distortion of reality,

Help me muddy the waters of truth

That way

Even the most knowledgeable among you

Can’t tell the difference between fact and fiction

Worship me

Worship the powers that be

Spread my lies across the land

Never question me

Treat me as if I am God

Because I am God

You are abandoned children

I am your holy father

Now come receive my blessing

Worship me

Worship the powers that be

Believe in my distortion of reality

And All.

Shall. Be. Yours.

I’m a passive aggressive cheerleader

Rooting for a team

That even its own fans

know will lose

But pointlessly cheers anyway

In hopes of being proven wrong

I am my own worst enemy

My own worst critic

Always second guessing myself

Second guessing my abilities

Am I a good writer?

Or am I so mediocre

That I can’t even recognize the fact

That I am mediocre

Due to my own mediocrity?

Am I a good poet?

Or am I so bad at poetry

That I commit poetic malpractice

Every time I write

These are the questions

That would drive me crazy

That would drive me mad

These are the questions

That would always lurk

In the back of my mind

Making me

Doubt myself

Doubt my abilities

Just when I think

That I have learned

To ignore those whispers of doubt

They always find a way back in

Back into my mind

And then I’m back

Back to second guessing myself