Many say that they are wandering but they are not lost,
I may be that; or I could say I am being led astray, in my own willingness,
Or that I know my way but I refuse to go…
Maybe I just really don’t want to get there yet,
‘Cause I know I will not like it…
Maybe I am actually lost, but not really.
Whoever said that life is a series of changes
Should slap me in the face until I turn red,
Spoken words are as powerful as written ones,
The only difference is the sentiment, the fervor, the zeal, the passion, the why…
And once they are borne into this world by one person to another
Only time can either relish them or heal whatever was ruined, broken.
You said you are not numb but you were blunt when you said it,
You were, I guess, lost for words at what you’ve heard,
I could only wish for you to care…
Was it just like hearing any other creed or was it consuming, liberating or immaterial?
You should know, it is often easier to be the one to listen than being the one who talks
Because listening is recognizing vulnerability but talking is being vulnerable.
My words will persist to exist in corners of memories and what has been,
I will not speak to you again of what was already spoken so I hope that you listened
And that you listened well…
For I did not speak of words from my mouth but of squalls of flimsiness
Of my innermost clandestine yearnings and sly deeds…
And please do not come running to me after all these,
I do not give second chances to those who do not deserve it.
August 25, 2011 Rm 231 Kamia Residence Hall (12:24am)
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| yes, you did. |
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