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u
Sometimes I write for you, other times I write about you, but most of the time I write because of you
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Under her dark and clouded skies
the grass remain green
Under her dark and frowned brow
she still manage a smile
Under her dark and unwieldy imprint
she tells us how she really feels
A face not always portraying truth
her reality; multilayered
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It is not jealousy I feel inside
it is something more akin to envy
to see you grow up afar
to study and learn and then
to leap into the unknown
to a life awaiting
I envy you and your future ahead
as I contemplate that all I had
is already behind me
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I am afraid
to read my runes of old
thoughts in another language
another lifetime’s truths told
I am afraid
to read the words of others
my world no longer pure; poisoned
to become a copycat; faking
I am afraid
I am
of that
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the whetstone
I sharpened the knives
You said blunt ones; are a disgrace
I sharpened the knives
You smiled and cut
my heart
into pieces
some friendly advice to my next…
There’s no limo out front / no bling around my neck / I can’t make you come / a dozen times each night / There’s no history lesson here / just some friendly advice / I’m quirky as hell / be prepared or get lost