PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

I fear for living witch grows gradually harder with every passing day.
That any minute at any time anyone I love could be taken away or even me, there is nothing to predict time.
We cannot defend it nor destroy it. Time lingers over us until it takes us from our body and leaves just a pile of broken bones.
I fear that my endless pool of passion and ambition has been washed up. nothing to aspire to.
Nothing to try and accomplish for the linear plotted life line is a barley a journey but a routine.
The dreams we have have been sold along with our dignity to keep us confined to a little thing called certainty.

I get waves of ambitions with the force of tsunamis at the worst times. Times I cannot manipulate to my best interest.
I feel so mislead, and ignorant for I try to find beauty in a demolished world. I do not practice what I preach.
I am an oxymoron. I sold my dreams for a lack of feelings. I wish for comfort. I am afraid I won't find it.
Distance and lack communication keep me up at night calling people who passed away in my sleep.
I hate emptiness the void it creates really excels in creating aggressiveness.
who am I to speak for, live for or even die for.
my dreams for myself have been crushed, along with my expectations of my comfort levels.
It is time for me to make an impression on someone else.
and stop my destructive ways. There is ice in my veins and rust in my heart.
I have been exposed to much pain.
I dream of people who I rarely know. They tell me important things. but I ignore them.
I am a boy who lost his home they tell me, to get up and find them.
make an impression. and stop dying in my dreams.
Nothing is what it seems. I got to make a difference.
They tell me the only way to do so is to be passive on my passions.
and focus on the directions.