another morning
A beautiful one. Birds and breezes, the sun shining.. not letting up. That’s what I needed.
I had a moment where I felt like I was more harm than good. It’s the tiny things… being told I’m the cause for problems, ridiculously small, first world problems that aren’t even real. For some reason it’s important to me to keep the places where people I care about reside, safe. I get blamed for all of the bad, the good might as well not exist - it’s unknown.
We don’t do things for a reward, we shouldn’t. Not one that doesn’t come from within. It’s unsustainable, and not very fair either. The only thing I “do for a reward” is work a job, I guess. It’s rewarding mentally too, that’s never something I disagreed with.
I’m a guy just like every other one. I feel things and I have dreams. I have fears, I have love and even a bit of hate.
I get mad, I get sad. I feel content, happy too - often confused, and very blue. At times I laugh, at times I cry, Then wonder softly, “Why should I try?” I feel so high, then drop like lead, With racing thoughts inside my head.
Things happen. I find my time is limited at the end of the day.
So I get home, fingers light, Mouse in hand, my aim feels right. The world outside? I held my ground— Now peace is here, where clicks resound. A glowing screen, a quiet room, Lit in old art deco bloom. No masks to wear, no roles to fake— Just every choice I choose to make.
A rusted world, a voice that taunts, Dark corridors, familiar haunts. Each key I press, I dive in deep— Into the place where secrets sleep.
But maybe you and I, we know the lie.
That echoes bend, that signals cry. The blood runs red in frames per sec, But none recall what came next. The code is cracked, but never read. A ghost upstream. A wire. A thread.
And then - dead.
Triple rhyme is a sin. Oh well, too late for the bin.