PostPoems Be Artistic. Be Creative. Be Inspired!

these tomorrows don't really matter

they're only the stones on the way to next week

you know these years don't matter either

they're only steps on the way to the death



it all seems so very meaningless and trivial

when you're so close to having all you've wanted

there's no one at the end of this path

and yet again you're left alone, asking what's it all for



sometimes better off not knowing just where this'll go

usually better off not seeing what's right in front of you

because you'd rather not know



-



everything's nothing

just can't have it all

sitting in silence

i wait for the fall

all these words spoken

and all left unsaid

just couldn't help put me together again



-



was it all out of care

or just for convenience?

was it love you were in

or only what's easiest?

you've been taken for a ride

but the whole time you don't mind

laid it all on the line

was it just wasted time?



it's so hard to say

if the exchange was equal

you'd have given it all

and expected nothing either



who on the other hand

would just take and take?

who on the other hand

would not appreciate?

whoever you are

you never felt the same

wherever you are

you avoided the pain



what would be wrong with this picture?

could it be this nail's never been

quite in the right place

and wherein lies the equal exchange;

to depart from the same?



-



when's the last time

these words retained their actual meaning?

they didn't at all the first time

so they're changed as they seem fit to



rearranged once

now revolving back together

no total collapse

leaving room for regrowth

and an empty glass to soon be refilled



-



it's safest to say or to know it's true

that not a single one of you would've felt the way i do

and now once again it's all set in stone

once i've stripped the excess away, i'm left here all alone



how many of those were really real?

how could you have known aside from all that i've shown?



once i've came in, i've already done myself in

i'm jaded and in disbelief but not regretful

i can't blame anyone but myself

what's past is past and it cannot be changed anymore



the certain few who have always came thru

are certain to continue

to extend until the end

certain to comprehend



-



maybe let's all go off track

just as well much like a throwback

see what's real on the silver streak

as i do believe it came incomplete



these silver skies we cruise thru all the while

making great time past more many miles

too much more but so less to feel

i'll never really get it

it's indefinite for real

(i'm momentarily subjected to these incorrect directions)



left of field? yes!

but right on target? no!

on to our destination? maybe so!

so sure you'd know before i'd believe it though



it's all pleasing but only to appease

you'd open your eyes but only if you need

there's no dead ends to comprehend

i'd hate to spoil the ending though

so naturally left incomplete



-



it was all so real to be true

and then again.. despite the fabrications

how else would i've gotten in this current placement?

so i trust it must be after all



and so i know what all was real

what should've been thrown aside

and what i really feel



to those who think they're on what they think is the track

i'd hope to be beyond that

and even if i slide

i know that i'm behind all that

i can't have any of that, really can't



-



i'm in this place i always wanted to be

and yet inside it's still left all empty

i've been trying to fill these gaping holes

you can still stare right through them though



i tried to make it all go away and now that it finally is

i'll be the first to admit to missing all the past pieces



i've taken away all the parts that stay the same

and thrown those pages in the fire

that wouldn't get me anywhere anyway



not in a desperate need for what i don't have

these holes cannot be filled with possessions

but maybe instead - a presence?



i've given more to hands with a lack of return

but haven't i also taken from hands i've given much less to?

there's no equal balance



what'll ever be returned back? i can't say.

what could ever come back in quite the same way?

these glances are exchanged but who's to say

if what you see is ever the same anyway?