these pages were bare

as days pass, millions of thoughts race through my mind. whether they're intelligent or bland, they're always mine.
when life is given to us we are empty. empty, and ready to learn. mostly, however, we are here to observe and act upon these notions.
these thoughts are not given to us, they are produced. my thoughts are unlike yours and the next person's. though, i'm always proud to call them "mine".
you may not concur to the words i have assembled, but you have been granted the right to respect them. i do not judge based on your experiences. i do not criticize your lifestyle. in essence i ask the same of you.
my request is not outlandish or impossible, it is merely obtainable with a fragment of effort.
do not base your judgments solely on what you have heard. open your eyes and observe. open your ears and listen. open your heart and give compassion. open your arms and embrace. open your mouth and welcome reassurance.
the world does not ask much of you. you may ask too much of the world.
remember your place and keep the position of others in the forefront of your mind.
these blank pages are meant to be filled; filled with your own initiatives and observations.

just one

my life is not an open book,
nor is it made of pages that are willing to be written on.
my thoughts tend to stay harbored,
and only known to myself.
most days that pass me by are repetitive,
but i rarely voice my negative opinion about it.
i figure i have to live what is undesired,
in order to cherish the desired days to come.
my trust is hard to attain,
due to a lack of stability that i've experienced in the past.
as days go, there are few things that get me by:
art, photography, music, literature, conversations.
i do not lead a glamorous life,
and i don't try to portray that i do.
my life is mediocre,
but someday it'll be a life to look up to.

minutes pass

unpracticed phrases and improper words find their hope on the tip of my tongue.
clenched fists turn flat as they level with my face.
they absorb the unpleasant sorrow that streams without any sense of control.
thoughts deep inside race with no comprehensible destination.
tearing through the unsettled matter that remains a mystery.
black smudges beneath my palms will cease to be seen by anyone but the stranger beyond the shattered glass.
my unfamiliar voice screams helplessly into the lifeless pillow that has been through many similar nights before.
searching for a phone; a friend; a pair of ears and a gentle voice to assure me that nothing is past the point of repair.
a loss of hope stops me in my tracks, as i have been down this path before.
never have i heard a loving voice say that they'll be near.

[SIDENOTE: THIS IS REALLY OLD]

time kills us all

every moment passes us by; a whirlwind of complexities. never knowing when it will slow down so as to absorb a moment of simple bliss.
finally, a sea of calm overwhelms us, leaving a moment to ponder. grazing over the "what-ifs" and hungrily consuming the "how comes".
pieces to this puzzle we call "life" remain scattered in shapeless forms. internal screams are constantly muffled by our own insecurities. words remain unspoken on the tips of tongues as fear overtakes our souls.
many nights are spent pulling thick blankets of sorrow over our faces, searching for something to keep us safe. we awake to the bright yellow star outside our window that dries up our daily tears and brings us yet another day to contemplate our hopeful years.
gingerly rolling out of bed, we dread the next few hours to come. scrubbing away the filth from the previous day, we attain the closest thing to perfection that we know. pasting on smiles an bright eyes, we draw our swords in preparation to strike fear into those who try to break us down.
hearts light as feathers, consternation weighting us down like bricks; the days will continue rolling whether we want them to or not.
keep your cameras ready.
this might just be a moment to remember.

[SIDENOTE: THIS IS REALLY OLD]