Misfit

I take the hint

that I don't belong,

in your ranks

and in your songs

you take your might

with your victory sips

far oblivious to the

hurts and whips

of this discolored world

a missing piece

not missing after all

I rise to friends

and to ignominy I fall

you call me gray

seeing me fall in the fray

but not stopping to weep

I take my tears

and let them run deep

Cold, my off-color melodies,

these meaningless songs

that I sing,

those that were never music

for any scores

for you open my eyes to the truth

an insipid believer, forlorn

turning all the melodies into

a joyous swansong

I'm carried in humility

I'm remembered in haste

I've survived millions

but now I wither away in waste

The blue and green of your eyes

blends with my red

and the world sighs

Intrigued they look,

outwards they go,

longing for questions

the answers not for them to know

In silence I do repent

a born misfit among those embracing trends

smiling gallantly,

riding the chariot of change

hoping to clutch the sands of time

tiding away the beliefs

long held asinine

Memories, you no longer hold

any meanings, withheld or foretold


Quietly the delusions flow
far withdrawn from reality
that you and I live in to know


Up and away the musings go

what am I left with, do you know?

Heat

In my head
there burns a thread
that was left like a shred
far removed, unbred


thoughts, like me, now lie low
deeper and deeper
the blood gushes
but where does it go?


asked to keep quiet
I stand up and fight
lose my faith and gain no respite


the mute is defeated
and the mighty grins
far from sight...


I fail to inspire, I set myself on fire
the embers glow bleak
I turn cold and weep


that within is hurt,
the one outside is curt
flowing from every direction is dirt
and I sit and gather...


I cannot get any sleep
tossing and turning I grip myself in need
where do you keep silence?


all that I see is all that I know
I didn't ask what you didn't show
why then am I impudent and inane?


burning in fear, short on tears
and yet hopelessly pitching for sane
I find no takers, where are my makers?
Busy perhaps hatching the mundane...


Divided in fears, we've hurried the years
and journeys and days,
the memories are really the only rays
I bask in...


And neither death nor old age
their is nothing colder than maddening rage
and I know you think I'm of age
but inside I'm all red too


But really, I'm still fire
I can reach where I aspire
even if it means burning
the very castle I admire...


driven by hunger and desire
burning in the heat
of my very own fire...