447. Much Too High a Cost?

keep-your-coins-i-want-change__880

If I am but a beggar,

And no one will grant me coin,

Am I lost?

Is living, much too high a cost?

If I don’t have the answers,

And no one else does either,

Am I lost?

Is living, much too high a cost?

If I can not find the way,

And there are no directions,

Am I lost?

Is living, much too high a cost?

If I can not find myself,

And no one else will seek me,

Am I lost?

Is living, much too high a cost?

If I can not save myself,

And no one else can save me,

Am I lost?

Tell me do some lives, have much too high a cost?

K. Aldaya, 6/27/18

Picture: By Banksy; https://www.boredpanda.com/social-issues-street-art-bansky-london/

439. Lost

I’m lost inside.

Won’t someone find me?

In the echoes of time,

I wander in effigy,

Of who I was long before,…

The hallways shifted;

And I was ne’er able to find,

One crack through which light sifted.

I’m here looking,

For some way to escape fate.

Is anyone searching? Has anyone noticed,…

That the hour has become late?

And I have not been there with you.

My eyes, they make no sound,

Yet if you’d have truly looked at me,

You’d have seen I’m not around.

For whispers resound through the tears and years:

“I am still not found”.

K. Aldaya, 5/2/18

Picture: http://sfwallpaper.com/image-post/7520-lonely-images-14.jpg.html

387. Lullaby of the Lost

Where do the dead go and who can follow?

Will you go to where they lie?

Will you search the darkest hollow,

To find the truth before we die?

Where do the lost go and who will find them?

Does anyone care they’re gone?

Who will pull-out each thorny rose stem,

Upon their heads when they are gone?

Where do our thoughts go and who will remember,

The sufferings of this mortal coil?

The fires of life shed each ember,

Of we who soon become it’s soil.

Where do the cursed go and who will love them,

When they’ve become all we fear?

Who will care to find and hold them?

Who will mourn or shed a tear?

Where do the dead go and who can follow?

Will you go to where they lie?

Will you search the darkest hollow,

To save the lost before they die?

K. Aldaya, 3/1/17

Picture: by: Branimir Jaredic; http://fineartamerica.com/profiles/1-branimir-jaredic.html?tab=artwork; http://www.magazineim.com/home/index.php/collaborators/branimir-jaredic/#7

352. Random Thought #17

I could sit for hours in this spot,

Just staring at the wall;

And I sometimes wish I could do just that,

Without any guilt at all.

Yet, I feel guilty for my absence;

For not being enough…

For letting my mind escape for awhile,

When times get tough.

So I fight against the emptiness,

And fight against the pain,

When I know it’s only a matter of time,

And it’s sure to end the same.

If one day I don’t make it back.

Please promise me you’ll try,

To still come visit, and hold my hand,

A few times before I die.

K. Aldaya, 5/11/16

326. You Gave Me the Key to Your Door

Girl+outside+door+2

You gave me the key to your door,

Yet I know not what to do,

For I lack the courage to use it,

And conviction to walk on through.

I know I’ve always been a fool,

And as a fool I well may die,

Lacking courage and perseverance,

For deep down I am but a lie.

I am but a broken shell,

Of skin and self-defeat,

Whose eyes bleed out realities,

Most find too indiscreet.

Doors may lead to anywhere:

To heaven or to hell.

Yet for me the path is set.

There is no escape from hell.

I long to fly on angel wings,

Mortal souls to save and bless,

Though if an angel I once was,

I can no longer recall the caress…

Of hope and kindness on a soul;

Of trust and innocence.

For who would trust that a heaven’s door,

Would appear in hell’s province?

O, it is but a mirage of what might well have been,

If only sins remained with the sinners,

Instead of defiling all men.

It only takes one demon spawn,

To drag more angels down,

And strip them of their salvation,

And choke them ’til they drown….

On the apathy of the masses,

Drunk on ignorance and pride,

Who never really care to look,

Through their doors to the outside.

When angels look away and hide,

For fear of falling too,

How are the fallen not to fear,

What even the angels do?

You gave me the key to your door,

Yet I know not what to do,

For I lack the courage to be let down again,

And conviction to reach for you…

When you’re not even looking.

K. Aldaya, 1/2/16

Picture: http://www.novahtijusticesummit.com;  http://static1.squarespace.com/static/551f2c5ee4b07d5916c70972/t/559406d9e4b0fc1e2ed46e37/1435764557634/Girl+outside+door+2.jpg?format=2500w