440

Does it matter for the heart who it loves?

Look at me, talking about love as if I even know what it is.
Some say you must have broken your heart
Before you know what true love is.
But isn't love always true?

Sympathy
The world's my little place to come and crawl into.
It's my little cave where the rays won't hit me.
But it's dark.
It always will be where there are walls
Where there are pits into which I can fall.
And I can cry
I can swim the rivers in my tears
I can make an ocean and disappear
Beneath the waves I'll lie asleep
Until I drown.

And even then, I'll hear this song
I'll dream about a day that's gone.
I'll mourn my loss of life and light
And my turning towards night.
I'll reminisce on times I tried
I'll stare ahead, refuse to fight
Refuse to give up my place of safety
My own humanity
My own protection from the sea
Of my own sadness.
I refuse to let the world tell me who I am.
For not even it knows what it is
Because it isn't even there.

What will be
When you will not love me?
What will be
If you leave from my life
I'll feel like a star fallen into an abyss.
I still won't know who I am
Who to call, who to replace you with.

My white thoughts, not made so by the snow outside
But by the colour of the flag I hold up.
I cannot charge into a war of passions
Because I cannot call it art and speak truth
And all I want is to speak truth, to be real
To be who I am.
Is it a tragedy?
When did this become two things?
When did being become a question?
And why?
Across this bridge I walk with my surrendering flag high
Aware of the ditch that I cross,
The fissure in the landscape I had tried so hard to close.
My palms, wounded, now hold on to the ropes along the sides
And my feet sway on the planks.
They may give way
And I may fall into the fissure
And die.
I close my eyes. Who is it that sits beneath the tree at the end?
The tree I cannot see, the tree from which I breathe.
Is it her? Character? A she? No, a tree, or what we may call it.
Branches, roots, leaves, a home for many
And the representation of character
With its shadow being the reputation that hides away always from the sun.

What did I write?