#poemsbyfox

[poemsbyfox]

Pain is a funny thing,

A tool by which I suffer,

And a tool by which I thrive,

A reminder to rest,

And a reminder I'm alive,

For the prosperity I bring,

And each sensor I buffer,

It's a reminder to stop,

Let my lungs fill my chest,

Let my guard drop.

Crying is a release of which,

I'm unfamiliar being allowed,

So much to do in so little time,

Feeling my emotions,

Starts becoming more and more a crime,

As my thoughts begin to hitch,

And my breathe is shallowed,

I remember not to hold back,

One with the earth and the oceans,

I'm not under attack.

Mantras of all kind,

Finding my daily bread,

Trudging through the molasses of life,

Sticky sickly sweet and slow,

Exhaustion thick and rife,

Each day I wake to find,

My stomach full of dread,

This pressure on my shoulders was put there by me,

I take a deep breath,

Finally, free.

[poemsbyfox]

I do not know how to tell those I love why

Why do I avoid the horrors

Why do I look away from grief

Why do I flinch at the sight of a block

Why do I know too much for my age

Why do I share traits with the elderly

Why do I trip in the easy moments

Yet, my movements swift in danger

Why do I fear good times

Why do I stumble over words in the store

Yet, I know precisely what to say to save a life

Why do I act inhuman

For where there is a line to be drawn

Between those in fiction who have lived many lives

Back to back experiences more

Than one human mind could comprehend

And that of a person 24 years of age

As I am

[poemsbyfox]

No physical proof is necessary,

When you know you have crossed,

Oceans of time,

And seas of planes,

To find those you were meant to see,

That first night I saw you,

In a fraction of a second,

I saw our lives together,

This time,

And last,

And was all at once,

Awake again

[poemsbyfox]

There's this hollow feeling,

When I dig below,

At the surface there's a spectrum of emotion,

Where it's vibrant and shallow,

But swim down beneath the waves,

And find a chasm unlike anything,

Lined with black rock caves,

A fraught past tightrope string,

I balance the line every day,

This grief bubbling underneath,

It's not that I hide it, I'd say,

But being open doesn't dull it's teeth,

The sharp yet numb bite of loss,

Knowing I will never go back,

Those memories in the woods, on the moss,

The life so far passed,

I reach with invisible hands to hold you,

And my ghost feels yours,

As the you, here, now reaches too

[poemsbyfox]

I have done bad things,

I will forever,

Be monstrous to some,

In other's stories,

Thus is nuanced life,

I am, however,

No longer in mine

[poemsbyfox]

I am so sick of fear,

Sick of the dreams,

Nightmares of watching my loved ones leave,

Taken from me by no fault of mine,

Or all fault, in such cases,

Falling beneath the waves,

Leaving my home behind,

Every new morning I wake,

A new person,

And I remember and remember and remember,

And this exhaustion holds me from true life,

This regret of wasted time,

25 is the longest I've lived

[poemsbyfox]

I live on a line at all times,

Constrained by the grays between truths and lies,

Stuck in a yard of graves and flowers,

Counting years that pass like hours,

The thoughts rouse in my head,

Pulling every moment like thread upon thread,

Not allowing my feet to dare touch the ground,

As this carousel of morality continues to go round,

I tell myself I've made peace with this path,

That this feeling isn't sadness, not grief or wrath,

Those may not be the feelings by which I'm accosted,

But it's a lie to act positive when I'm simply exhausted,

The thought I put into each line,

Each rhyme,

Is a fraction of a fraction of how I think all the time

And I'm tired.

[poemsbyfox]

I wish I could forget