If I ask the world nicely, will it whisper its answer to me?

I.

And tell me world

      Will you tell me?

      Before I go flying off again to universes

      That only ever exist in the palms of my    

      Hands, in my bones crackling under my    

      Own weight, in my bloodstream flowing

      Life after life; death after death

And tell me world

      Will you tell me?

      Before I sail towards patched up cities     

      Merging with distant lands written in the  

      Storybooks I’ve read in the past my mind

      Will never allow me forget and the        

      Storybooks I write in the present

II.

And tell me world

      Will you tell me?

      Before I let my heart take over and you

      Know how my heart can be–

      Drawing on walls with colors it can’t

      Even pronounce; painting on faces it

      Could barely recognize; creating

      Something without hesitation even if it

      Doesn’t know what it is it’s creating

III.

And tell me world

      Will you tell me?

      Tell me world

      That all my dreams are but lies with edges

      Sharper than the paper thin, fractured ice

      Field I keep walking on at night, barefooted

      Tell me not to wait for them, to work for

      Them so I could prepare myself

      For my life’s most thunderous heartbreak

 

IV.

And tell me world

       Will you tell me?

       With only honesty in your eyes, tell me

       What a fool I have been, what a fool I am

       To believe too much in everything, to

       Believe too much in me

And tell me world

       Is anyone to blame? Can I blame

       Me? Or you? For something we both are

       Unsure of? For something still unwritten?

       Untouched? Something burning with the

       faintest flame of hope?

 

V.

And tell me world

       Will you tell me?

       Isn’t it hope that we both cling onto?     

       Because it is hope that I cling onto

       Because it is you that I cling onto 

      Because it is me that I cling onto

And tell me world

       Will you please tell me?

       Please tell me why I still cling onto hope

       Why I still cling onto life

       Why I still cling onto you

       Why I still cling onto me

 


 

Most of the time, I regret living inside my own mind, wrapped up in the comforting arms of my dreams, my hopes, my truth, my everything. Sometimes I think they’re real, they’re here. I can touch them, smell them, taste them. But reality strikes hardest those whose eyes are plastered to the stars and the sky. Sometimes I don’t know if my dreams are my dreams or if my truth really is my truth. Sometimes I think they’re not. Sometimes I know they’re not. Sometimes I wish I hadn’t developed this obsession with hope and positive thinking, thinking that I may still find my way, still find a way, some way, because there has got to be a way. It’s tiring. I’m tired. Sometimes, I’m too tired to dream. Too tired to write these poems, too tired to believe in the stories I witness every single day of my life, too tired to cling onto the thin line of hope I have created for myself. But I hope anyway. Despite the growing negativity, despite doubt eating me slowly, despite the shit I keep saying to myself, I still hope. And maybe… Maybe that’s enough. Maybe that’s all it takes.

 

Originally posted on Instagram

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