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I’ve been thrugh this before

None of these are perfect

Each time I’ve been here, I am brave

But now it’s  more, and I’m not getting any braver.

Anymore.

So the lights came

And with me, the show begins…

There comes pain

The act is complete euphoria of dying

Though dying is not that easy.

Then, there comes waiting

I am undone, this is sick

Sicker than cancer and I am in it.

Gargoyles, the are -

What makes a monster?

He wears a mask, it is -

What makes a man?

I am not supposed

to close my eyes and drift and pass.

Each time I’ve been there, I am fearless

Now the road surprises me, and fear creeps in

Again.

The voices are coming

And with me, the show again…

There comes pain again and again

There comes waiting, expecting for nothing

There comes fear creeping in and staying

There comes truth that askin is everlasting

And there is magic side by side with dreaming.

Who could gues?

I am, and my show begins…

by - jopherlyn-

Look at thyself and impart thy appreciation

Spite thy existence very generously.

What’s it gonna take when thou hast been tired being tired

A fantastic defamation of thyself.

Thy secret garden bear the glowing truth

Shattered days ahead, thou hast burned.

Settled for nothing, a still disorder

And thou hast soothen angry nerves with more pain.

Where hast pride been from here and beyond?

The sun has setteth itself in thy garden.

And in thy middle, the pounding intensifies

Turning peaceful howls into echoes.

Thy secret garden lulls insomiac eyes

To sleep and rest and more…with tears.

Somewhere, a soft-spoken princes writes thy rage

Lives and bare against the odds for nothing.

Hold thy breath and taste the mist

From thine eyes and surrender.

For thou hast tainted thy secret garden

The vile mutates to pain.

For thy secret garden is only real in her heart

Melting to permeate a threat.

Thy garden explodes into a maniacal fit of laughter

But her eyes tells more secret.

Then comes thy eerie sound for thou hast cried

Thy crazy little world becomes sane.

Where hast thy secret garden been, invented only for thee

Cast thy needle to a brain for sleep..divine.

by -jopherlyn-

a poem by Portia Nelson..kudos!
I
I walk down the street
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk
I fall in
I am lost…I am helpless
It isn’t my fault
It takes forever to find a way out.

II
I walk down the same street
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk
I pretend I don’t see it
I fall again
I can’t believe I am in the same place
But it isn’t my fault
It still takes a long time to get out.

III
I walk down the same street
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk
I see it there
I still fall in…It’s a habit
I know where I am
IT IS MY FAULT.
I get out immediately.

IV
I walk down the same street
There is a deep hole in the sidewalk
I walk around it.

V
I walk down another street…

—-I really like this poem.