When you look at my hands
What do you see?
All the things I've held onto
All the things I've let go?
Or perhaps
The place where yours used to be?
"Oh, that," I say as we both, you and I.
All we can do is follow with our eyes.
Our hearts were too dense to move as lightly.
There was the glow about her, much like dying coals.
And yet, the prettiest of smiles suspended on her lips.
"She understands the light perfectly."
The way it hit our skin and draped the world.
"But what she forgets,"
-as she shimmers under all that fell from the sky-
"Is that there is always darkness where there is light."
For she has turned to face the sun
and forsaken all the shadows in the past.
"This is the way you do it," She says, "Starting from the beginning."
-And they would all do it the way she did.
But one would waver and began with 4, 5, 6.
"No no, you have to start in the beginning," and there would be a struggle.
"But if you started with 4, the beginning ought to be 4," They would reply.
This would go on for a moment, until the teacher wearily wondered aloud,
"What part do you not understand?"
"None at all," Was the answer.
-And with a smile they said, "I'm just a Dandelion Child, that's all."
I've been alone for a while now.
But I have one who I love so much, and am loved in return.
So I suppose I'm not alone. But somehow I am. In a different way.
Am I that selfish that its not enough?
Yes... I suppose I am that too.
And from it all, there's this pain.
It comes from deep inside, right below my heart and a bit to the right.
It builds up, and it wants to come out. My body isn't big enough to hold it.
It tries to leave me, escape through my eyes.
But I can't let it. I shan't.
Because I'm scared.
If I let it out, it'll leave me empty.
Nothing left of me.
Alone I shall be, but not really alone.
And so I will be content. I can't ask for anything more.
Conventional bravery, stock chivalry. A stead gallant enough to ride into a war, trusting to come out barely unscathed. Slaying goblins, sorcerers and wizards, but most gloriously a dragon.What children anticipate, hang their hopes on. It is quite unfeasible to take on such a beast, how does he do it? And in conclusion, returns a hero.
Perhaps when they get a little older, like me, they might realize:
No matter how strong...
For a human to fight a monster means he has submerged his humanity
and ultimately transformed himself into a greater monster.
Who should we really fear?
Who should we really cheer?
Who should we really fear?
Who should we really cheer?
I see them everywhere, those that people recognize.
They're on billboards, television and department stores.
I even see some of them with my ears when they're on the radio, but that's not all. They're hiding in my magazines, on the web and putting themselves out when they're on stage.
We envy them, we hate them. We adore them and at times even ignore them. I don't understand why there are so many of them, but we're not even close to knowing about half.
I find them slinking around local bars and restaurants, even in the grocery stores.
There's so much expected of them: Charity, volunteering, role modeling. Work, busy, work.
We see them as super-humans, a hero perhaps. Maybe even an imaginary being that can't possibly exist. A display to look at? A picture to pick apart their flaws and criticize their strengths?
What most people forget...
Must I remind you?
They're still just kids.
Funny things, words.
As empty as they are, you can fill them up with anything you want--the world is yours as long as you say it. That is, until I say it too, then we'd have a Word War between you and me. WWI ? WWII? No, this will be WWIII & the number of casualties will only be 1, either you or me. Don't underestimate the severity of this warfare, there's too many of them going on and too many clever strategies.
Your words can be smothered with hope.
But mine? They're bombs full of hurt.
We all knew that since the day we met her.
There's nothing we can do or stop her, she does what she pleases.
We love her, we hate her, there's not enough of her.
She can amuse the least amused and repulse the least repulsed, there's nothing out of her league.
She leaps when she's supposed to walk, she spins when she's supposed to turn.
She's a curve, not a line and not in italics but a bold with double underlines.
She's a storm in a shade of blue and an inferno waiting to combust.
She considers the unconsidered and ignores the common considerations.
She's a bow in the hair and a bullet in a gun.
She's the plug in the socket and the leak in the roof.
What can I say?
She can blow up at any moment.
She's a dying star.
Someone once said that girls who've had their hearts broken become more beautiful.
Maybe it's the countless tears that make their eye shine like stars but with more emotion than what any star can show. Or perhaps the forced smile that we often can relate to. Maybe it's the way they start taking care of themselves more when there's no special man for them to worry about. Sometimes I think its in their walk the day after and the day after that until someone else comes around. The way they pick bits of themselves, and perhaps some of him in the midst of it, up to move forward. I believe its also their experience of the whole love, and most importantly if they're abandoned & scarred or grateful. And rain can fall down on us angry and sad.
"Can't always believe what people say," people say, but we do believe what we say. Most of the time, anyways.
But I am curious...
I wonder who said that.
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