Welcome to Gaia! ::

Warning for language content. But by entering Outburst, you should be already prepared for such.

I don't need to censor the language, do I? after all, poetry is art, isn't it?

Yeah... This thing is like quite a few years old... I wrote it after one of the times I got rejected by a girl I liked. I originally put it in places I knew she always looked through, like my AIM profile. Turns out she read it. And she didn't even realize it was about her. Fail much? Oh well, who cares. I got what I wanted anyways - a good vent session. I was actually a bit happy after I wrote it.

I just thought I'd dump it here. About a week after I wrote it, I decided to title it:
What am I to you?

(Please don't mind the caps. I was pissed off, and typing caps in notepad with Courier New font made me feel better. Something to do with the way that specific font looks in caps.)



I know it doesn't make perfect sense, but love does that to you, and so does heartbreak. The two way barrier between alone and love that momentarily makes people not make sense.

old old things that won't go away,
like old memories that just don't stay,
inside the confines,
of our minds,

the feelings stew,
and bubble like glue,
always sticking,
with time always ticking,

a limited mind,
is restricting our ability,
bumping our grind,
destroying civility,

dividing tranquility,
from love and peace,
bringing about ambiguity,
till time seemed to cease.

Sucking and ******** our brain,
driving us depriving our gain,
inspiring the empirering of the world,
and watching, listening around their finger twirled,

if we doubt that life exists elsewhere,
we doubt that life exists here,
they may be us and us them,
more likely so they stopped to help hem,

all the humans a bit closer,
basically gave us a brochure,
on how to regulate,
using self appointed delegates,

we thought they were gods,
but maybe they weren't,
just technologies with better odds,
with powers and lights which would have burnt,

four billion years our galaxy has withstood,
in a universe that's fourteen billion years old,
children we are to those that could,
travel through space as quickly as we through forest wood,

not yet but soon we may,
send a man through space,
and find the way,
to pick up our pace,

somehow I can see,
the prison in me,
mind locked cage,
bringing rage,

upon the stage,
turning the page,
for a simple wage,
and a simple mage,

wishing I had meaning,
is only saying,
that I am praying,
for demeaning.