This world has deceived us.
There's cures for diseases hiding under the sleeves of those teach and preach us the scientific concepts and you can pray to jesus, but jesus can't see through the walls and halls guarded by men who will lose their balls for telling the people about the cures because they fear that the people might hear that they can steer away from the sickness, cheer for the cure, and no longer live a near-death life.
Instead we have a world where people like my girlfriend are hurt.
And they try to force their own spirits up, but the pride gets lifted and disappears every single night, and every single night is just another fight to avoid the light, a frightening thought just might take over their minds and take over their sights.
They'll see the light, they'll see the white, they'll feel the bite, and they'll wonder why they're the victims.
Why did cancer have to pick them?
Why is this disease always with them?
Why won't God just finally lift them?
Why is this disease out to get them, but failing?
Death sounds so beautiful when the only feeling you know is pain.
Death sounds so beautiful when you discover all of the corporate games.
Death sounds so beautiful when you're far past your prime.
Death sounds so beautiful when you're hurt, but alive.
Why does death seem so perfect to them when we fear it the most?
And I'm ashamed of the world that we live in where nobody will take the blame for starting this corporate game.
They'll throw out names, but hide from the world.
Those who keep the sick from the light for the purpose of money must hide themselves from the light. You'd look better in the dark anyways where nobody can hear your heart.
You can only go so far with your show because the stars are falling, but shooting.
And we treat these cancer patients like shooting stars because we make wishes for them whenever we see them like they're some sort of rare sight.
Why can't we take note of their fight, remember what's right and admire the beautiful light that shines off them?
They're an average star, but every star is beautiful in their own way.
But the stars must pay to stay away from death.
Then again, the stars we see at night are no longer alive.
So, are we alive?
Or are we looking into the past?
The past became the past so fucking fast and I just want each moment to last.
I remember me and her having a blast, speaking love like a sunday mass, filling up our broken halves like a car low on gas, and we passed each other our hearts.
I knew it from the start that when I felt that spark, when you took me from the dark, when you looked past my scars, my marks, the cuts that left my skin like an old tree's bark, I knew you were the one that I would always want to hold, but no matter how tightly I hold you, I was never able to keep you away from cancer.
It's depressing that I'm missing you when you're still here.
It's my biggest fear to lose someone so near to me that it makes me want to go... and as my heart sinks low, I wanna pull a Van Gogh and cut off my ears so I won't have to hear you say goodbye.
And I won't lie to you... I planned a future with you.. I dreamt of it every night, but the dreams turned into nightmares once I realized this world is unfair because nobody cares about you unless you're the next heir to the throne or if you have pairs of fares to afford a cure.
But baby, if you die physically, then I'll die mentally.
I'll become unstable and damn, I just wanna be a stable one because I can't hold my horses.
It's like I'm waiting for your course to come to an end and I'm waiting at the finish line with a stopwatch and a sign that says "Good race"
It's like I'm trying to erase our past so I can move on, but I get chills.
A car cannot move when it's iced up, but I can still sit in the driver's seat and only stare at what lies ahead of me, but then I realize that I forgot the car keys. In this metaphor, the keys are my heart because I need them to start up and whenever I misplace them, you show up with your hands full... your hands full of nothing, but my heart... as if you're telling me to take it from you because there's no point for the keys to be with you.
I'll let the car sit in silence.
In this silence I will study your eyes.
Baby, I'm gonna miss those eyes.
I'm gonna miss you.
And I'll never find an angel like you and I know I sound cliché but it's hard for me to write about my love for you when my heart is skipping beats like a scratched record.
My lungs are moving fast like a hurt man on a stretcher.
And my stomach.. well it's doing better since I started eating again
But no matter how much I stuff myself, I'll never fill full again.
I'll always feel the opening from where you used to be.
The opening that might help me breathe.
The opening that amplifies the beats.
The opening that empties out the heat.
The opening... that results from the closing... of those beautiful eyes.
Baby, I'm gonna miss those eyes.
YOU ARE READING
Views
Poetry"Views" is the second collection of my poems. For these poems, I decided to write with a bit of a challenge and put each poem in an uncommon perspective. Enjoy! :-)
