Self portraits can expose all feelings the artist hides…
I guess I could ask you to give me the moon, capture the stars from the sky, Hand them to me one by one so that maybe my eyes could capture the peace held within those mysteries that mankind could not synthesize.
I guess I could pray to god for a knight with an armor strong enough to deflect lightning, a knight brave enough to journey into the depths of my hell to rescue me before self destruction overwhelms my mind and body.
I guess I could give you the key to the most sacred things I posses. Hidden in the forest, guarded by high walls and unearthly beasts, locked behind the most secure lock, I’d invite you into my heart so that you could be the new care taker for such prised jewels.
I guess I would do these things if I knew how. I never dream of the heavens being given to me; I don’t lie awake waiting for my hero; I’m pretty sure I lost that key years ago.
I’m a closed book, no one has ever read my table of contents, preface, or even chapter two. The reader needs patience just to open such an extraordinary book. Maybe once read, my book will always be open to you.
I guess then I would ask for the moon and stars.
I guess then I would pray to God for a safe return of my knight every sunset.
I guess then I could finally start searching for that lost key.
I’m riding the bus home, and I think to myself, the struggle. I’m use to the easy life, and until now I’ve never had to be an adult. It’s just so happens a friend of mine rode the bus too, some how we started talking about life.
Good things happen to bad people, I’ll never understand that. This friend started to tell me about foster and group homes, abuse, and being forced to become an adult before she even hit her teenage years. Jane told me how she and her sister were locked in a room for hours by her foster mother, how she tried her best to stay with her sister, how after being in foster homes after a year at age 9, she realized she wasn’t going home to her mom. When she became a teen she ran away 62 times in one year, she didn’t want to be there, who could blame her? When she said she accepted her life and stopped running, it brought tears to my eyes. I felt her pain.
It’s easier to run away from issues, but even harder to stay and look them in the eyes and accept them for what they are.
She’s 20 now, she seems to be doing well, rising above the odds.
What I realized is that everyone has a story and demons haunting them, but there’s always someone who has more to tell and more resisting than you. I need to always remember that.
You say you love me, you make me walk on fire
I always wanted you, but even the best make mistakes
Please see I need you, you are my only place
If you want me then take me, don’t bring me down for the past
If you want to love me then do it, cause I can’t take back my past
I’m human, I’m human, I am human
You told me you would always be there, I never seen us being here
Stuck between hurt and confusion
I’m trying my best to let it go, your mistakes they raptured my soul
If you want me then take me, I’m trying to forgive the past
If you want to love me then do it, but I can’t forget your past.
I’m human, you’re human, human, only human
If you want me then take me, don’t bring us down because of the past
If you want to love me then do it, cause we can’t take back the past
We’re human, only human. Human, only human
“Oh yeah, that’s me”. It’s so funny when you think about the person you use to be, you think about how you were and how far you’ve come, most people won’t believe it.
I remember back in the day (even though I’m only 18) when people would judge me, the rudest things were said to me only because I didn’t fit in with everyone else. At the time it hurt, I was young and wanted to fit in, but now I give no fucks about what other people think. People spend their entire lives living an unhappy life just to be liked, or to have approval by people who don’t really care. People have the impression that because I’m an independent mind that would rather listen than speak first, that I’m snobby, too good or just plain “boojie”. I’ve been called boojie before, but until today I didn’t really think bout what that meant. So I asked, why am I boojie? I’m down to earth, laid back, I don’t judge, why would anyone think that?
“Yeah, you boojie.” What? Really? So then I asked, “Why am I boojie?” Apparently because I speak and dress exceptionally well, I’m snobby and too good for others… Hmm, I didn’t know that wanting to have a nice appearance put you in that classification. The more people I meet and the more places I see, I realize that others are way too quick judge, I even do it. It’s human nature.
At the end of the day I don’t care how people perceive me and I’ll most likely keep being me, I just think it’s funny that I was the ugly duckling, and now people say boojie…
Ha, it’s funny how things change…