Quick Respite

Maybe I wil feel better,
After these sixteen lines,
The navigation through my current thoughts,
Will leave the stress behind,

Forgotten for however long it takes,
Though I can't take all day,
I could never run fast or far enough,
To keep life's artificial jobs away,

Doing things I would never choose myself,
Or that mean anything,
Becoming critical while people starve,
Wishing they had something,

Like what I have,
While I wish for a dream,
Of a life where I can do what I want.
Now let the stress catch up, I've done sixteen.

Good Night

Laying awake at night,
Wishing you were asleep,
Knowing the next day will be harder still,
That's the hours we all keep,

You can't just live your life by your own time,
It's like we're all one form,
We're so intertwined as a species now,
Our butterfly wings cause global wind storms,

Or else we're so small we make no difference,
So get no benefits,
If no one sees you, you cannot get paid,
Which is the end of it.

Does this make sense?
My mind's too over-tired,
I thought writing this might get me going,
Instead, I'm thinking I might just retire.

By The Light Of A Candle

Your life is a slow burn,
A wick amidst great wax,
You'll not get to the end any faster,
You may as well relax,

As the wick shortens, you will see it all,
Then all of it will pass,
The only way to stop's to extinguish,
Which has been the choice of some in the past,

But what becomes of what was to be left,
As the hot wax cools down,
Intertwined with what was to be a part,
Of candles lit around?

Can candles change,
What they started to be?
Will yours disappear like it never was,
If you have seen all you would like to see.

Make War

When I see a soldier,
Head crouched with gun in hand,
Stealthily walking with comrades in tow,
Sweeping across the land,

I understand they have a job to do,
Without jobs, what are we?
Then again, without others to stomp on,
Some people are prone to ask the same thing,

In my wildest of imagination,
Making guns is not there,
Pointing them at, then shooting my neighbour,
I'm sorry, I'd not dare.

I hear your voice,
"You fucking privileged twit",
I just wish you were as privileged as me,
P'haps inequality makes war legit!

Life Transplant

It does look like a hoof,
Though, nobody has said,
A replacement for a limb that gave up,
Age preferring my bed,

Meanwhile a man is given a pig heart,
Hid, so easy to take,
If he was told he needed the snout, too,
Would the decision be easy to make?

At least in death he wouldn't hear the jeers,
Living isn't worth pain,
The only reason I fight for my life,
Is to be rich one day,

And show them all,
Even using a cane,
Money is like a whole body transplant,
No one sees the defects the cash replaced.

Happy Change

There's not much more to say,
Actions speak much louder,
Blowing up one's life's always discouraged,
No one likes the powder,

That settles on them once you've changed your life,
They're not up for such things,
So they make change sound like a dangerous route,
Which, guess what, they're not technically lying,

Change can be bad, but it is always good,
For nothing is perfect,
You can't see what's binding you from inside,
Only as you reflect,

On where you were,
Before you blew things up,
Then those around you will also reflect,
As they consequently dust themselves off.

What Might Be

I have been here before,
Standing at a threshold,
My body wanting to step through the door,
Towards moments untold,

Heart feeling I'm threatening its demise,
For instigating change,
That is when I step back into the room,
For what is known, yet is causing me pain,

Not a condition unkown to a few,
More like a pandemic,
Even though sometimes the grass is greener,
We all would rather stick,

With what is safe,
Compared to what might be,
Even though we all know that what might be,
Could be the fulfillment of all our dreams.