Tag Archives: sad


I’m turning three to one
Twice in my life
A third of a third?
Or two out of six?

For the first time
Maybe I’ll feel like someone,
Even if that means
Leaving loved ones behind.

Would I turn my back
On the music?

Would I turn my back
On the family?

Perhaps leaving
Will have the opposite effect.


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Thrown Away

Your lover’s waiting there for you
She’ll only be upstairs a few
More moments waste away from you
Your broken heart is just a day away
Your empty chest is starting to decay

You learn to love, you learn to hate
You’re told you don’t appreciate
The smallest little rays of sun
The stranger’s smile, the lover’s tongue
But all I want is just one more today
All I want is not to be afraid

Of old laments and future grief
Nostalgiac burn without relief
A stolen soul without belief
That summer’s gonna disappear
And when it does, she will be here
To tell me that everything is ok
We live together somewhere far away
You live forever somewhere not today

And at the top of stairs you will
Descend till you no longer feel
The hollow shell starting to fall apart
The hole that you at one time called your heart

Your lover’s waiting there for you
She’ll only be upstairs a few
More moments you are gonna throw away
These moments you will only throw away

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The Snow

Sometimes I wonder if I’m still there.
If my memory haunts you
In the snow.
Like an old abandoned house
With a dusty box of letters,
Photographs and broken memories
Sitting by the stairs.

And when I think and think
I think too much, it makes me weak
I crumble to the ground and on my knees
I shed a single tear for memories I know
Are dying.

Am I still living?
Do you know that I’m awake
Or does the past only make
You run further away?

I know you filter out the snow.
The dreams of yesterday
When you mark down on your calendar
News plans penned today

You have the things you always said
That you wanted.
No, needed.
You have the things you thought
Would make you smile.

So are you happy?
Or was it something that you
Already had that you took for granted
Now gone forever

Someday an old lady
Will bring me back to life
Through pictures in her head
And warmth felt long ago

She will crumble to the ground on her knees
And shed a single tear for memories she killed
And know that she stomped a dream.

So I’m alive
Even if only for a moment
In the regrets of a tattered old woman
Whose heart never knew again
The true love she abandoned
In the snow.

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Being Sad

Being sad
Doesn’t have to be
The worst thing in the world.
If other people see me
And they know me
And feel the need to show me
I should smile,
It shouldn’t make me mad.

Being sad
Sometimes is needed,
Feeling so defeated
Makes victory taste
Sweeter tomorrow.

Being sad
Feels awful when
There isn’t any end
In sight, and you stay awake
All night, and you wonder what makes
Your life turn around.

Being sad
Is temporary,
As most emotions tend to be.
So I tell myself,
I will be well,
And don’t feel so bad
About being sad

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Goodnight yellow bird

Goodnight yellow bird,
you sang me a song,
but without melody;
I can’t sing along.
Goodnight freedom,
how can I miss you?
If I’ve never dreamed,
my life isn’t true.
Goodnight to
bright lights, happy faces,
bodies shuffling,
different places.

Goodnight yellow bird,
I’ll sing you a song.
I’d save you a memory,
but you’ve already gone.
Goodnight freedom,
we had happy days,
with sunshine and laughter–
we go our own ways.
Goodnight to
everything I’ve loved.
the lights disappear
when I look above.

Goodnight yellow bird,
I’ll say with a tear.
I’ll never see your face,
you’ll never know my fear.

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The boy two doors down

Smiling faces greet us at the door,
unusual, but self-assure.
Tears are running down her cheek.
A mother should never look so meek.
Life took and took and took some more.

His sister sat by him in a chair
running her fingers through his hair.
In a far away world in her head
her baby brother was not dead.
She hoped she would wake up there.

Old friends and acquaintances too
would shake my hand, hope to renew
the times we shared–the dreams,
a lifetime ago, it now seems.
But an old friend passed–what do I do?

What do I do to show I feel blue?
Do I hang my head, stare at my shoes?
Do I smile it off, like others near me?
Do I furrow my brow, pretend to be angry?
Or do I whisper a prayer to you-know-who?

As I walk to the casket I realize
I am no one, nothing–and this life lies
too short not to cherish each beat
of the heart I neglect, but keep.
I am years away from the cries.

I grab a pen, as others before,
but I am never quite as sure,
that sending him off to a better place
is best through messages with little grace.
I never wished to be a great writer more:

I’m not sure where to start,
but I realize we must part.
When we were younger, a signed cast never
really made the arm feel better,
but I’m hoping this will fix my broken heart.

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My conscience disappeared
for perhaps a few years.
I never meant to hurt you,
but I never knew
what she would want me to do.

She was sick, I told myself
she would never be well
again, this is what took her home,
through pearly gates all her own.
I thought she was leaving me alone.

But the evidence on the screen
punishes and reminds me
that the monsters in my head,
these monsters I so dread,
were born inside her lifeless bed.

I clutched the pillow case
and pressed hard against her face.
I told myself I love her
I told myself there’s no cure.
Nothing but hollow words.

Laura, the sickness killed her.
Her cancer:
Laura, the sickness killed me.
My cancer:
Laura, mental sickness
got the best of me.

My sickness used hers
as a means to an end.

Laura, I never knew you well.
Laura, I’m heading for hell.
You tell me this for making a
heartbeat slowly fade away.
I can’t erase yesterday.

And as you run and scream and cry,
I slowly start realizing why
I never felt the pain before
I never opened up the door
I never thought about her more.

You were a figment from a dream,
and I had to hear your scream
to remind me of my evil past.
Things moved too fast.
Shattered glass.

I wake up and try to slowly walk
away from this malevolent mock-
reality that’s causing me
to lose touch with what’s really
me–here and there and nobody.

You have no reason to believe me
when I tell you I am sorry, Laura.
But just know that if I had it all to do again,
I’d want Mary’s last breath to be in my arms
and not beneath my clenched fists.

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