518. Underground

help

How am I supposed to live,

When no one is willing to accept,

The entirety of my soul?

Every piece of me, broken, is swept…

Under the rug. I’ll never be whole.

How am I supposed to feel,

When society calls me a lie?

And says the face is what is real,

And not the inner voices who cry.

How am I supposed to trust,

When there’s no one fighting on my side?

I’ve learned the judge is far less cruel,

When the truth is denied,…and we hide.

I may be insane, yet I’m no fool.

How am I supposed to live,

When condemned,…buried,…forgotten?

One cannot live when they’re not free.

So I spend my days with paper and pen,

Writing my own wistful elegy,…

That no one will understand.

K. Aldaya, 6/21/20

Picture: https://www.inverse.com/article/7543-how-do-you-die-when-you-re-buried-alive

511. Rollercoaster

Life’s a rollercoaster,

That I don’t get to ride.

I am stuck upon the tracks,

With nowhere to run, or hide.

I hear people laughing,

As they go about their day…

Talking…moving…experiencing…

Fun and joy along the way;

While I ponder what it’s like,

To live instead of survive,

Without fear of being hurt,

Simply for being alive?

I yell, though there’s no help.

Some suffer, while others enjoy.

My pain won’t stop the ride of life,

From continuing to run and destroy.

Life’s a rollercoaster,

That I don’t get to ride;

Instead, I lie upon the tracks,

Knowing that soon I will die;

And my body fall through the cracks…

…Unnoticed.

K. Aldaya, 2/20/20

Picture: By Tore Odiin on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/qhJwkgRl9Hg

476. Places to Go

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I long to escape,

Yet I’ve nowhere to go.

My heart lies on the ground,

Covered over with snow.

I long to fly up…

Upon the winds, and free,

Instead at the window,

I dream of being me.

I long to return,

To the sun and the earth,

Where I feel warm and light,

And every breath has worth.

I long to escape,

Though I’ve nowhere to go;

Yet when winter is gone,

Do not find me and sow.

Please spread my dust out,

I have places to go.

K. Aldaya, 5/21/19

Picture: By: Ross Sneddon on Unsplash; https://unsplash.com/photos/-_GA1e-813o

472. The Carousel

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In the carnival of life,

I ride a carousel;

And every seat is full,

As it starts with the bell.

On each horse there sits,

A rider that I know.

Yes, all of them are me;

And all of us must go…

In circles, as we watch the world,

Float by in a blur;

Until the bell rings again,

And we lose a passenger.

One gets off and tries to leave,

But a tether holds them there.

They watch as people pass on by,

And sing out: “Life’s unfair”.

Then the bell, it dings again,

As they go back to their seat,

Thinking: “Life’s chiefly a picture book,

With faces we can not meet”.

Spinning and spinning and spinning…

The world goes round and round.

No, it is not living,

When you can’t stay on the ground.

In the carnival of life.

I ride a carousel.

I wish I could just leave this place,

But the mind is it’s own hell.

K. Aldaya, 4/16/19

Picture: https://gifimage.net/carousel-gif-10/

454. A-part

I float away…all day…everyday.

I drift away…never stay…never stay…

The same.

I am me…”I agree”…”I agree”…

Yet,…”I disagree…I’m not free to be me…

Fully”.

I want to do…what I want to…see it through;

But, I can not do what I want to…plans fall through…

The cracks.

I am there…everywhere…and no where.

I float in the air of time in despair…neither here nor there…

A piece.

I’m only ever part of me…one me…not every me.

I always find I disagree…with me…and me…and me…

In part.

I can not stay…this way…or that way.

I drift away…never stay…never stay…

The same.

K. Aldaya, 8/12/18

Picture: Original Source Unknown; https://www.thecounsellorscafe.co.uk/single-post/2016/12/31/What-does-your-online-presence-say-about-you