357. Sleep

alone-arms-bed-depressed-depressing-emo-Favim.com-47601

You always sleep when I cry,

And one day you will when I lie…

in a coffin: the bed of the cursed.

Remember you shunned my pain first!

You always ignore when I bleed,

And don’t bother to stop and take heed.

Blades listen much sharper than you.

Isn’t blood now on your hands too?

You always disregard my words…

They drift onto paper like cowards;

Afraid to take to the air,

And be blown away without a care.

You always sleep when I cry,

And one day when I up and die.

Remember I told you I would.

Living: Tell me why I should!

K. Aldaya, 6/15/16

Picture: Originally posted by Doreese on Tumblr; http://favim.com/image/47601/

356. Fireflies

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Fireflies fill the night skies.

The wind is warm and light.

I stand alone beneath the stars,

This peaceful June night,

And wonder if stars are really,

The souls of ancient beings,

Who look upon the plight of man,

As a show with histrionic scenes.

In the expanse of time and space,

The lives of earthly men,

Must seem so trivial to a star,

Who’s seen from now to then.

Will stars recall when we looked up,

And stared into their gaze?

Will they remember who we were?

Will they remember us always?

Do we remember the fireflies,

Which danced before our eyes?

On summer nights while time passed by,

Did they gaze into our eyes?

Do not forget those fireflies,

Though trivial they may seem,

In the many nights of our lives,

They come and go like a dream.

Yet, if we don’t remember them,

Or moments while we live,

Who could hope for the stars to gaze back,

And watch us while we live?

And recall when our time runs out,

The beauty of existence.

How each life’s spark was beautiful,

In these skies of happenstance,

Where we all danced for awhile.

K. Aldaya, 6/9/16

Picture: By Steed Yu for National Geographic; http://photography.nationalgeographic.com/photography/photo-of-the-day/fireflies-stars-night/

355. Political Reform

Where are the hands which hold you here?

Which hold you to this land,

Of scorching concrete,

And vulgar deceit?

Where gavels scream every command,

Of the political elite.

Where are the hands which hold you back?

Which hold you in embrace?

The hands which act,

To make an impact,

Before time is lost without a trace?

Toward death the odds are stacked.

Where are the hands which hold you near?

Which hold your worth skin-tight?

Hands fall to find,

The world is unkind.

Countless die from depression’s heights,

Waiting for laws to be signed….

………..Waiting for a hand to hold.

K. Aldaya, 6/4/16

354. Stuck in Time

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Time blows around me;

Stuck in place, I feel it pass me,

And sings it’s haunted lullaby,

Of what will never be.

I watch the time and people pass;

They wave as they walk right past.

For a moment we knew each other,

And then that moment became the past.

I stand in place and wave goodbye,

And wish them all the best and try…

To be happy they are moving on;

Though secretly I want to cry.

No one stays and no one should.

I’m lost to time and no one could,

Stay here long without a cost,

And there’s no reason why they would.

Time drift’s on and passes me,

Along with everyone I see.

Is anyone else left behind,

To make the time less lonely?

-Time blows around me.

Stuck in place I feel it pass me,

And sings it’s haunted lullaby,

Of what will never be.

K. Aldaya, 5/14/16

Picture: Originally posted on http://icanfeelyourheart.tumblr.com/; http://favim.com/image/82741/

353. Puppet Heart

marionette

It reminds me that I’m not loved for me…

I’m loved for what I do;

When I don’t do what’s expected,

(As all those other people do),

I’m swiftly rejected.

No words are needed to remind me that,

My mind’s not important to you.

As long as my body does it’s work,

You’ll treat me as a human too.

I’m nothing but a piece of work.

Even my mind can’t stand for this,

And is gone most of the time.

How is it I don’t have a say,

In controlling what is mine?

So it oft’ seems best just to stay away.

I have to earn my place in your heart,

I’m not enough just being me.

If I didn’t do what I’m supposed to,

Would you ever be able to love me?

Love comes with strings attached.

K. Aldaya, 5/13/16

Picture: By Rosie Hardy on Flickr; http://weheartit.com/entry/group/467124