Fading

     As I look at the stars burning bright I think about how long it takes for their light to get to me, and how very small I must seem to a mountain standing so tall.  But if I am so small to everything how is it I can feel like a king?  If my life does not matter, then why does my heart often shatter?  If I am but dust to the sky why do I feel pain or cry?  If nothing knows I am here, why then must I experience fear?
     Stars go out but do not feel pain, falling doesn't hurt the rain, mountains fall but cannot make themselves raise again, and stars that race across the sky can't rejoice if they win.
     But why then do I feel less important than the sky?  Why am I the one who has to die?  I can feel joy, pain, strife, so why am I the one with a limited life?
     Maybe I am as important as the sky . . . after all; we both must cry.

Inferior Interior

     I must have been mistaking, because now I've been stretched to the point of breaking.  But do you care?  Are you even really there?
     Your reasoning is gibberish to my ears - "What's the point of tears?"
     How can you ask that question without a trace of guilt on your fearsome face?  You stare me down, looking straight through my eye, demanding of me that I never cry while tears stain my cheeks and drip from my chin . . . You just always have to win, so I always have to lose, don't I?  Do you even realize it's your own fault that I cry?
     Just leave me alone, for once in your life!  From my back remove your knife!
     Your words are like punches, beating me down.  You dare not let me question who wears the crown.  But all those things you said . . . you lied.  Surely you are empty inside . . . But what is it with you and tears?  Weakness and fears?  Why are they outlawed?  Perhaps you're just a fraud . . .
     But I dare not think that way!  Oh, way must my mind stray?  You'll find out for sure, and my treacherous thoughts you won't ignore . . .
     I didn't mean it, I swear!  But about my reasoning you do not care . . . What about me; do you care about that or anyone else?  When you speak everything around me melts as tears obscure my view . . . My tears are because of you!  So leave me alone, please . . . Just blow away in the breeze.  I don't want you here anymore, but you thrive at my vary core, shouting in my ear; saying I'm weak because of my fear.
     But you're the main reason I'm afraid!  For long enough I've played your little game.  It really is a shame that I ever listened to you in the first place.  But now it's time for you to leave without a trace; you've been here far too long, telling me that I'm not strong.
     "You're weak!  You cry and you love when you should suck it up and shove!  You are inferior!  For your interior is so very vulnerable.  But you aren't incurable.  I can make you stronger if you just let me stay a while longer."
     I'm tempted to listen like I always do, but then I realize you're asking for my permission; you're begging for my submission!
     You're what makes me weak!  You're the one who makes my eyes leak . . . and it's my own fault, because I allowed you into my precious vault.  I let you into my heart, just to have you try and break it apart.  You're the one who's inferior!  For your interior is bleak, black, and blank, making you rude, mean, and frank . . .
     Well, guess what?  For once I get to win, because I'm kicking you out and not letting you back in, ever, never again.

Wasted Tears

     So many thoughts enter my head, but then escape me when I go to bed.  Can't find the words to say all the things that come my way.  So I keep my mouth shut, cry over a paper cut, and write what I feel, but it all seems unreal.  It's all an illusion, so why run when you're afraid?  I prayed, but I don't know why, because nobody answers my cry.
     We jump up just to crash down again; there is no way to win.  The only way to cross the finish line is to hang yourself on a vine, or die some other way.  We'll all cross that finish line someday.
     But that's not winning.  Die and go back to the beginning.  Or just have everything end.  What's the point in it, friend?  When you can never win, it's the same thing again and again.  The only thing that changes is time, it acts like a mime as it silently flows by, one day making us die.
     It all hurts inside, but still I lied and said I was okay, even though I'm dying day by day.  Everything changes yet stays the same.  We all beg for fame, yet say love is the important thing.  We're pawns but want to play king.
     Nobody seems to understand.  Nobody lends a helping hand.  We're all drowning in air, and breathing in water that's not there.  Nothing is real, no matter what we feel.
     I have to tell myself this or else, everything around me melts in tears.  There are so many fears.  So many reasons to cry; someday we'll all die.  That's the end of the story; there is no happily ever after for me, or anyone else in this world.  We get our hair curled when it's straight and straighten it when it's not.  We pay to make the cold hot, and make the hot cold.  We call ourselves bold, but we never are.  We're trapped in tar that's white as glass, but it will all pass.
     Because, as everyone knows, time fly's by . . . it goes.  And with it goes life, someday it'll end our strife.  And then what?  I try to shut the emotions out, try not to shout, or cry, over the fact that we all will die.  Every day's the same, but someday the sun will set the world aflame, or go out and everything will freeze, a cold or a hot breeze.  Will everything be made to burn, or will the world freeze and stop it's turn?
     Oblivion is on it's way, come to snuff us out one day, so what's the point in living?  Taking or giving?  It all gets taken in the blink of an eye; we all will die.  But I suppose that's okay.  Why have it any other way?  Because if we lived forever, why would we do anything clever?  We'd just stay the same for eternity, taking everything for granted you see.
     So we will all die someday, somehow.  So it's okay if I die now from this sickness inside of me; it's better than living for eternity.  Though that is a bit of a lie, because I don't really want to say goodbye.  Not yet anyway, but someday.  I can't help it if that day comes sooner than it should, sooner than I would want to have it end, but it's okay, friend.  Because I am glad for the short life I have had.  It is truly okay if my sickness makes me die today, or in one hundred years.  I won't waste my time here with tears.

For - Prince Charming

                                                                               I

    Dear Prince Charming, I find it quite alarming that you have yet to find my rose covered castle.  Was it too much of a hassle?
     I've been asleep for a hundred years, but I still have ears!  So do not gag when you see the hundred years worth of dust on me.

                                                                               II

     Prince, my dear, don't you see my step mother leer?
     She's turned me into a slave; oh, the pain!  She's driving me insane!  So do return my shoe, and then I'll marry you.  Even though we've only had a dance; you're a prince, so I'll give you a chance.

                                                                              III

     Dear Prince, you got thrown out of my tower!  Why did you just cower?  When you found me you should have set me free!
     Luckily for you my tears heel.  Ashamed is what you should feel!  Getting saved by a damsel in distress!  Leaving me to pick up the mess!

                                                                              IV

     Dear Charming, I don't know you very well.  But what the hell?  Kiss me and I'm yours.  I'm pretty and good with chores.
     I'm never eating an apple again!  That queen will not win!
     All these dwarfs are too much of a hassle, so kiss me and let's go to your castle.

                                                                              V

     Charming, won't you listen to me?!  I can now speak freely, but you don't seem to hear a word I say!  Daddy told me I'd pay.
     I want to go home!  But on land I'm forced to live and roam. Oh, how I miss the ocean blue!  Why'd I bother marrying you?