Monday, March 30, 2009
They wouldn't be the blissed type.
I'm bored of what surrounds me here,
And what's here is the pacifist type.
I'm sick of being watched and judged,
And annoyed by the analyst type.
I'm wondering who wouldn't care,
Somewhat of a dismissed type.
I'm questioning just what it'd take,
To be with the apathist type
I'm wanting to understand emotions,
Especially the pissed type.
I'm ready to witness pain,
And not only the fist type.
I'm needing to see less plans,
Should just leave the list type.
I'm guessing how and why,
Certain people aren't the kissed type.
I need to meet someone new,
So Carolyn can be the missed type.
This is my pokerface.
I put it on everyday,
To hide emotion, to conceal any trace.
When i'm hurt, when i'm sad,
When i'm happy or mad.
If I feel it will stream out too much,
As if it's a natural disaster I can't control,
Rather than the preachings of my very soul.
My eyes get all dazed,
When I want to be someone else,
And I'll get distant and phased.
Like a volcano, envy and sadness will flow,
Sadly, my true thoughts it will show,
I'll become a spewing mound of truth and despair,
Erupting strong and slowly dispersing,
Engulfing every by stander with my cursing.
Sometimes I like to keep it quiet,
When I get too happy or hopeful,
I avoid the starting of a riot.
But then it pops open to avoid imploding,
Like champagne, uncorked and exploding
Then fizzing up, right over the top,
My excitement never can just sit,
Though I'd rather keep it private.
But with my pokerface,
I can filter my expressions
It's my idea of grace,
It can stop the volcano's eruptions,
Mute all of it's corruptions,
'Cuz sometimes they need to hide,
Like all my excited joyous notions,
In my corked bursting bottle of emotions.
When I need to focus,
I try to dispatch my thoughts,
But flash floods of feelings own us,
Emotions power is universal,
Controlling us in one big rehearsal,
Drowning all with random thoughts,
Feelings that overcome and pour out,
Maybe in happiness, or in times of doubt.
Feelings are personal,
Keep them close and contained,
Emotions aren't merciful.
They will show it all,
With no cushion for when you fall,
Don't bottle them up, just keep them reserved,
For expressing there's a time and place,
but for now, go put on your pokerface.
I am a thorn,
No beauty intended,
Prickly and cold,
Staying away is recommended.
I can't be pretty,
My pain can be pinching,
Get to close,
And you'll need no convincing.
My job is simple,
I'm the obstacle to get by,
I protect the better,
Now I'm questioning why.
Reason one would stop at the thorn,
I do not know,
But on the way up to the top,
Some do stop before they go.
In the last while,
I've learned to accept my position,
Sure, it makes me cry,
But I see no quick transition.
I know I really shouldn't,
And I haven't up until now,
but why should I pretend,
I have no 'wow.'
I have nothing in fact,
That's what separates me from above,
That's why I get left behind,
When we test the love.
Those budded above, they like me,
They give me my pride,
For the overall effect they need me; why?
Of course; the protection I provide.
They get all the attention,
I'm just a prop,
That they throw around,
To harvest their crop.
I'm just a thorn,
prickly and cold,
no beauty intended,
not delicate, but bold.
But why complain?
There are lots of us,
Those who lead up to others,
For us there's no fuss.
I'm not the only one who feels like this,
I know there are more,
Am I any different?
Or are we all an equal bore.
No apparition determines your life like a fraction.
Blame can't be shared for any eternal dissatisfaction,
No fate can decide your course of action.
Rolling continuously as a wheel; with no preplanned direction,
If you spin aimlessly now, mistakes will fill your collection.
But you should never turn back to make a correction,
No one should achieve that unearthly perfection.
Don't even attempt, because you'll surely spin out trying,
Your mistake is your choice, so it's yourself you'll be denying.
If you turn back and retry; there's fear of self you'll be implying,
You can try to mask the fear, but your conscious can tell if you're lying.
And will turn afraid of that mistake, so much that it can't learn,
Mistakes will flourish, and mislead your consciences' next turn,
As it fails, it will give up hope, your acceptance it has to earn,
So fed up and sick of it all, that your conscience will lack your concern.
You may be falling with the fascists,
Ready to give up everything we have?
I can't let you go,
Can't let you take the risk,
I can't let you go.
You know it's not right, Give up the fight,
Against everyone who ever cared,
Everyone who ever loved you, ever given you a chance.
The world's not making a mistake,
At worst a sacrifice,
Willing to be the one to fight,
You're always so miserable,
You know you don't have to be,
We aren't all that way.
We can choose happiness; create it.
But you don't believe that,
Always so hostile.
You are falling for the fascists,
Ready to leave me behind,
No- determined to leave me behind.
This is not what you deserve,
This is not what I deserve,
Time to check your heart; you've come askew,
I'll always be ready, to fight for you.
I've heard you got this sickness,
Attacking you like a plague,
Your heart is gone, turned to black,
Like the shadows in the moonlit night,
As time graduates from the day.
I've heard you got this sickness,
Churning through you like a snake,
Dirtying your blood with it's venom,
There's no way it can be contained.
I wish I was there, I've got the cure,
To whichever needs fixing.
I'll stop the pain, the throbbing, and the nausea,
I'll be your relief from the constant burning of skin.
There's no need to worry, I'm coming in a hurry,
To whisk you away to my unearthly place.
And when I snatch you away, you will be missed,
But you just can't stay, no hospital can treat this.