Fleeting Moments of Time/ It's Past/ The Life I Want to Lead/ The Most Painful Past/ Prayer/ The Victim
Fleeting moments of time
As quick as anything, one thing turns to the next,
Moments are flashes in one's mind,
Only the memory lives on,
Because now it's something different,
Sometimes good or bad, but not usually,
Let the music inside your head calm your soul,
No more worries,
No more fears,
Exist in your own fleeting moments of time.
Is it so right
That I once fit inside
This tire swing of childhood
Oh how I would fly!
Slicing the air,
With my dangling feet,
Grabbing the tree,
It was mine to keep.
Birds sing from above,
And to leave this tire swing
Would be a sin.
But I did leave it,
And grew up so fast,
And when I came back to it,
My time had past.
Too big for the swing,
Now time to move on,
So I walk away,
Singing a sad song.
The Life I Want to Lead
So beautiful an afternoon spent at a coffeehouse,
As I climb down the stone steps to the outdoor café,
And sit down at wire made tables and chairs,
I sip my decaf coffee,
With a hint of chocolate,
And whipped cream,
As I take out a blank book
Made of recycled paper,
And I take out my ballpoint pen,
That flows along my paper as a wind flows along the sea,
I leave through some pages written in scribbly manuscript,
And continue where I left off the day before,
Magically transformed in a land made by my pen,
With dragons and knights and wizards,
With royals and peasants and elves,
With rolling green hills and a colorful sunset,
But not a damsel in distress,
Who would bring disgrace to my womanhood,
And only do I come back when I'm finished with my coffee,
And the Earth's sun is setting in the sky,
So I lock up my secret world for the day,
And continue on my way home.
The Most Painful Past
Unto this box the two past things go,
Of times long ago from which I must move on,
From idolizing a girl to my serious mind,
Trapped me with my sensitivity no more,
Nothing is good or bad, just different,
She is my friend but I cannot analyze her,
Nor she can me in the serious way,
If she could she would not be her.
So I move on, not trying to understand,
The road to this knowledge is unnecessary and painful.
Enclosed in my breast,
Is this dream of desire,
This passion once felt,
That clouded my days,
A sting to the heart,
With these selfish ways,
O how it would hurt her,
Like it's killing me inside,
For if she were gone from me,
How I'd wish to die.
This is how I know
That this dream is pure fiction,
And if it is not,
Let me stray from the addiction,
For the world is nothing,
Without her as a friend,
And if my own words take her from me,
I'd put my life to an end.
Wherever I go,
I can't get away from it.
It's my role in life,
As if life's a movie,
As if I'll always have the right,
They'll always feel sorry for me,
Like I'm a doll,
A porcelain doll,
That's about to get broken.
They line up against the wall,
Greet me in squeaky tones,
"O, G-d, don't let her cry,"
Such a baby,
My sister is the aggressor,
And I am the victim.
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