The leaves turn grey In a world of colour, I walk in blacks and whites. The vibrance hurts my eyes, The lights are too bright, Or pitch dark... There's peace within darkness, There's comfort within the void. When nothing exists, There's nothing to care for, Nothing to feel, Nothing to think, No worries, no pain, No love, no hate, Only blankness, an ending... And perhaps, if you're willing, A new beginning.
Dear smile,
Why do you shy so?
Dear tears,
Can you never be easily repressed?
Does smiling through tears
Entertain beauty?
Does bravery through fears
Inculcate strength?
Do thoughts on an empty mind
Muster passion?
Do thankfully forgotten memories
Ever fade?
The soul burns, rips and douses,
A silence assembles its little noises,
The biased preacher and the naïve listener
Reject rationality, reject mankind.
It is a comfort to believe in
One truth,
It is a luxury when they
Believe the same.
And there you stand among
Multitudes and tides
Waiting for that one moment where you
Ought to shine…
It isn’t today, nor is it tomorrow,
Yesterdays are gone, lost to the shadow
Of time and space,
And all that is left is
A numb, biased, improvised fact,
Rebellion,
And you.
A tickle in the stomach
Lets out a strange sound
In a foreign tongue
Queer to normality.
A breath-capturing step
In a green green world
An impossibility of an experience
Lands you in a wonder-world.
Your fall was frightening.
Your fall was everlasting.
Now the cold hard ground
Glares down at you furiously.
With trembling limbs,
And cheeks stained with tears
And a throat dry of screaming,
You stand and turn the world around.
Not good enough. Never good enough.
Too big or too small.
How do you fit through that door.
Why must you fit through that door?
It is a door
And you need some air.
Is there air behind that door?
You peek. It is not
What you were looking for.
Clueless fat men, a hyper-active mouse,
You’re late for tea!
What tea?
This was never meant to be.
Yet, here you are…
Here you are.
In that world you dreamed of…
A wonder-world,
Distant from home,
No Oz, just your wits,
Do you really wish to get back home?
Stand tall, my friend.
Time stretches, but it won’t be long.
Another door awaits.
Train your heart to be strong.
Paper Prancer 