I am a servant of God, a person, a girl, a writer a best friend, a close friend and just a friend. I can be a bitch and I can depressing, I can be dirty, I can be rough but I can be lovely, fabulous (afrotastic) loyal, kind and caring. I can get hurt, I can get broken but I get stronger each and every time after... 'It's just nothing but a rough patch' that I have to get through a friend/enemy of mine once said. A lot of the time I don't feel the need to though...and I'm back to drowning again because I can see and I understand those things where visibility seems dim. I can see...
I am like a wild fire, rare and unique, unified by that formation, that is, until it's broken. I am like wildfire I can either be for you or against you but above all I'm as a dagger, deadly and silent. Thinking about it now...no wonder the A Sword Master can't be well associated with the Wielder of Daggers...we're just too deadly as death put together and even more so when only one is taken out! It's a sort of ultimatum that can never ever be resolved...I suppose that's why it hurts so much. To be apart for so long that you actually start to miss them, miss it, miss; missing the feeling of happiness once more.
It never used to be like this and I never wanted it to be this way...
I gasp, awakening from my slumber only to be welcomed by the gloomy darkness. It's still night but I wasn't dreaming...I was just trying to fix things all back together...but it won't, it can't. It's just unstable.
Wednesday 1 July 2015
Talking To Myself
It'll be okay,
It'll be okay
It'll be okay
Until morning for through the night I can't sleep tight because everything is messed up and gory. In the end, I find my friend and they hold me until morning.
It'll be okay,
It'll be okay,
It'll be okay this morning.
They won't be in, they can't be in but then I hear a door that opens, in he walks and there I sit paralysed by every emotion.
I can't breath, I can't speak and it's all I can do not to hide away inside.
'I have control over you' he had said and in my state I believe him.
What? I say sire.
What will it be this day?
A back stabbing, inconsiderate laughter, a twist of the knife, a threaded suffice, something else that will make me broken again? Shall I call you a foe or shall I call you master I do not know.
What say you sire?
What say you now?
You who will never know.
I always go back to them, I feel for them but not in the way as I did...too many burned bridges that will never fixed again. A part of me hopes but most of me knows that it'll only be denying my feelings if I choose the burned ashes rather than waiting for another who can bring me life. After all you can't break something that is already broken, dimmed for all to see. It's a dangerous life to care; it's an even more dangerous life to care for me.
It'll be okay
It'll be okay
Until morning for through the night I can't sleep tight because everything is messed up and gory. In the end, I find my friend and they hold me until morning.
It'll be okay,
It'll be okay,
It'll be okay this morning.
They won't be in, they can't be in but then I hear a door that opens, in he walks and there I sit paralysed by every emotion.
I can't breath, I can't speak and it's all I can do not to hide away inside.
'I have control over you' he had said and in my state I believe him.
What? I say sire.
What will it be this day?
A back stabbing, inconsiderate laughter, a twist of the knife, a threaded suffice, something else that will make me broken again? Shall I call you a foe or shall I call you master I do not know.
What say you sire?
What say you now?
You who will never know.
I always go back to them, I feel for them but not in the way as I did...too many burned bridges that will never fixed again. A part of me hopes but most of me knows that it'll only be denying my feelings if I choose the burned ashes rather than waiting for another who can bring me life. After all you can't break something that is already broken, dimmed for all to see. It's a dangerous life to care; it's an even more dangerous life to care for me.
A Heart In Pieces
I think that the things you have to remember after being with someone for so long that to all of a sudden change from being with that person to being with another person is that they're not the same person, so they're not going to find pleasure in the same things as the person before them. That's the difference and it takes a very long time for you to actually see that enough to remember it, to be intimate without being the one that is thinking 'name used to do that' or 'I wish name was here.' I think above all you'll come to the point where you'll adjust to that and no longer remember that...until the day that you can live with it being more than just a memory but reality also or until you believe in it too little too late.
Sometimes it's going to be hard to explain why things are the way they are because of that special something that you had with them once and because at the end of the day you'll still go back to them, even though it kills you inside, even though you care and even though things will forever be complicated between you and them. They're the last person that you would call when your hurting but then again they're the first person that you'd think of. Someone told me once that it's just one of those things that you can't forget; that I am one of those things that they still really do care about. That someone was them, the one that is the last person I'd think about in emergencies and they're the first person that I'd think of when I'm hurting.
Sometimes it's going to be hard to explain why things are the way they are because of that special something that you had with them once and because at the end of the day you'll still go back to them, even though it kills you inside, even though you care and even though things will forever be complicated between you and them. They're the last person that you would call when your hurting but then again they're the first person that you'd think of. Someone told me once that it's just one of those things that you can't forget; that I am one of those things that they still really do care about. That someone was them, the one that is the last person I'd think about in emergencies and they're the first person that I'd think of when I'm hurting.
SIlent Tears
It's funny how you can be so nice to someone and then they turn on you and completely forget that you're even there, I think that in the end you just end up not being visible at all, so you try to remember the things that made you visible before the fall. In the end you go from feeling something to feeling noting and clawing yourself to feel again, even if it's just a little pain. These are the silent tears that mark me, the ones that define me. A change in me that unfolded, changing into me only the vessel of a hollow shadow, invisible to the world and even myself.
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