Lenses Made from the Dead



A world without community is bland and harsh. Leaving even the most strong and wise in a world of hurt and pain. The most creative would become bland, the brightest would dull over time. When we look at the world around us we look through it not at what it truly is. We see it through a lens made from pieces of the people around us. Yet when that community is taken away, when those people disappear the lens is also ripped away. Leaving us in a world colorless and bland.



So what if you are the strongest, so what if you're undefeated. Your body will age, disease will worm it's way in and accidents will cause bones to break. Over time you will grow weak with no drive, weak with no one to cheer you on or motivate you to continue. You will have no one to watch your back when you are careless. No one to help heal your wounds, and no one to be there when the weathers too cold. Strength is nothing if not in numbers.



So what if you are the most knowledgeable and wisest. Age will muffle your mind, fog your thoughts. You will have no drive to grow smarter, no one to challenge you, no one to correct you when you make a mistake. Because even as the smartest, mistakes will still happen. You will have no one to combat your ego or keep you in check, you will grow up thinking you are all there is in this world. And the world will outgrow you. Smarts are nothing when there's no one to challenge you.



So what if you're creative, the next Picasso, one day your hands will become brittle, overused. You will have no one to appreciate your work. No one to admire, no one to drive you to new creations. Your world would become colorless, your world would become brittle. You would fine no joy from the things you create. The things that made you happy would eventually turn on you.



When community is taken away, so does the color in life. No matter how skilled or talented without that net of people in your life, when you fall it may very well be then end. Without the motivation, the challenge, the admiration, the hate, the love; life becomes colorless, an empty pit in which there is no way out.



Some of the most amazing people in my life have undergone this fate. Removed from their community, or growing up without it all together. I heard their cries, I saw their tears. Yet I was not enough. Their lifeline's were already gone, and by the time I met them they were already falling too far for me to catch them. Yet I was the one who had to see them when they finally hit the bottom. Becoming nothing more than a broken piece of glass used to create my own lenses to look at the world through...



Who knew lenses made from the dead held no light



Bird



When you fell from the sky I was in awe

You had such rough, yet beautiful feathers

You had wounds that told stories

Wounds that held me entranced



I had seen many birds before

Some who soared with grace and elegance

Some who hid in the shadows afraid of their wounds

Some who mimicked the grace of birds around them

But yet none like you



You soared your own way

Flew a little lop sided on an unstable wind

You flew so high sometimes, then would fall

Always unsure of where the wind would take you

Yet you still flew with such confidence



I have seen you fly, soar in a sky that I have feared

A sky that held dozens of birds

Yet you were the only one to fly the way you do

To hold such grace while staying true to yourself



Even though you have wounds that hold you back

I see you soaring one day

Flying higher than any other bird could ever go

I see you flying with such grace that I could never compete with

The Art of Love



I was made for love, I have felt it ever since I was a child. This fascination with romance, this need for words to flow through me. Yet I have only felt love 3 times in my life. Each of which will forever be engraved upon my heart.



My first love was in 7th grade, a (now) man who still fascinates me to this day. Thought I do not keep in touch, I remember from then throughout high school he had fascinated me. Leaving me to spend as much time as possible with him, yearning to learn more, to hold him close, to never let him leave.



My second I was 18, she was strong, independent, yet she was also scared, and soft. Such contrast that held me and helped me understand that two very different things could be the same at once. She showed me a world of compassion, she helped me see a future within myself. Yet I let her slip away, never to be seen again.



My last love was recent, a man who had a flame about him. Who had shined brighter than any start I could ever see. His presence could hold a room, his voice booming with confidence and excitement. He was an amazing brave man who showed me that love could not be forgotten, only learned from. He also showed my that sometimes love must be let go, so that the seeds of growth can be let in.



I will always love these 3 beautiful people, their names will be etched into my heart forever, never to be forgotten. From the man who showed me that I could grow and become more. To the woman who awakened my love for art. To the man who showed me my limits and helped me grow. Each and every one of them will live inside me, until the day I turn to dust. In the future more names will most likely be added unto my heart, each one weighing me down. Until the day my heart cannot handle the weight and gives out on me. Until that day, my heart will stay open, my love will grow. And I will learn and grow with it. I am nothing more than a lover, bleeding out my emotions through ink and paper. Looking for others who will bleed out with me

A cycle of hate leads to a life of regret



I am a monster, tearing down myself, wearing scars that tell stories or retrained rage. Scars that were meant for others, scars from anger and fear. I have held myself back from harming the ones that have hurt me, only to harm myself. I did it to protect, to shield the one's I love. Yet those scars still reach out like tendrils of hate. Spewing out towards the one's that love mean. Wrapping hands of guilt and sadness around the one's I love.



I used to use these fangs and claws to bite down and hold back from harming others, protecting the one's who harmed me out of learned empathy and compassion...out of fear of my choices. I would bite down and claw at myself out of restrain. Becoming blind by the rage the rushes through me, deaf from the fear of my actions. I did not see you there, reaching out a hand. I only saw the ones who hurt me. I did not mean to bite you, yet the scars on you tell a different story.



This cycle of restraint slowly changes, the anger I had for the one's who harmed me, slowly changes targets. I become the enemy, the threat that I once feared. I made more scars, yet these one's are different. They are not made of restraint, but of disgust and anger. True rage, at myself for what I have done.



When the rage wears off, I am left with regret, with fear of harming you again. So I must run, afraid of the damage I may do, afraid of the scars I will make. Yet you chase, and when I become bling with rage again, I bite. Causing more scars, and causing more internal anger. I have created a cycle, one that will never be broken until forgiveness is allowed. Until I learn to love who I once was, and who I can become. Yet how can I love something that has caused such harm? How can I see a light in a darkness made of regret .

Destructive Love



My love is vicious, vile in nature. It is strong, harsh and dangerous. I will harm you, tear at you until there is nothing left. I am a hurricane ripping through the streets of your soul and mind. Pulling the very essence of you from your core. I will hurt you, I will cause pain like no other. My rage will never be swept away.



So please, let me love you from afar, let me love you from a distance so my waves do not rip away your core. Let my love be far enough away so you may only feel the ripples of it touch your beaches, and sooth your mind.



I am vicious, I am vile. My love destroys, while all I want is to create...

I am a book yet written



In your life there will be some who become a chapter in your story, a story not intended or planned, yet written nonetheless. These people will come, teach you, guide you and love you. Then they will leave, they are not meant to stay; they are not meant to be. Yet you will love them, you will learn from them and you will grow. We are ever evolving creatures, constantly changing, constantly growing. Until the day the earth takes us back into it's open arms. Ready to read the stories we have made. Until then I will write. I will learn. I will live.

A Broken Soul In A World Of Nothing



There is no creator; if there were, a soul like mine would have no use in this world. I would be cast astray; no talent, no excitement. There is no fun in watching a soul spin in circles begging for death, begging for change, begging for understanding. If we are all toys for a being better than us, then why have I not been cast aside. Why hasn't my story ended in tragedy. Only then would these pages be found enjoyable.

A Used Dog With No Tricks



Please bite me, break me. Cause pain upon my body so I know I still live. Hurt me and make me scream so I may be of use to you. I know no more than the hate you throw at me, no more than the fear you push into me. I know no more and will never know more. Let me be the tool in which you use to feel free, to take away the hate inside. Leave me bloody and useless, only then will my worth in the world truly be tested.