Mellifluous Murmurs

The Removal

When you're a spreadsheet of good and kind, 

you'll tell yourself where you've gone wrong and where on Earth you have achieved such a mind.

You're a carrier of all deeds that mean well, 

but still, you sit around thinking you've committed a crime and you end your beautiful day with a long swooning dwell.

"This is all my fault!", you scream as you see a dead man on the street

what you don't know is not of fault, but it is discreet. 

A sheltering belief of faith and a mixture of an afire destiny yet a wrath

it's like you've showered yourself in boiling agony instead of laying yourself down in a nice, bubbly bath. 

How can you think of yourself so low?

If this is the end of day, would you still think of yourself as so?

Do you this this is right?

Oh trust me, I'll make you see the truth. I'll do it with all of my might!

It's beautiful how you see the beauty in others but not your own self

you've picked out the nicest book and it lies on your dusty, old, ragged, shelf. 

A layout so interesting yet so vague, 

you drive yourself nuts to the extent of whenever you look at it, you'd think it's done on purpose and it's a plague!

You make me giggle out of humor

but you make me suspicious after I hear you blurt out such a rumor..

You're too kind of a soul; too pure for a human 

but you've been looking from too of afar, I think you'll need to zoom in. 

I look at you and you give me a beautiful smile, revealing your pearly whites

and that's when reality not only hits me to the ground, 

but it stings so painfully as it bites. 

This is so magnificent to see yet so much of a shivering relief 

the pain gets me slowly until it hits me all like it was just a move so swift and "brief." 

Craze kicks in and solemns the light of day

it makes me want to sit down aside of you and say

"you're a great person and an extremely bright ray

but you need to understand that there's no other way 

you can no longer act so kind yet be so gray

your heart lingers in the safest of homes but at night it's astray;

you feed on delight but your bitterness feeds on hay

don't lay yourself out there so poorly on a rusted old tray..

but don't ever underestimate yourself because you're as precious and refined as the inlet of the crystal blue sea on a bay." 

I scribble and scribble yet I cannot find the exact word, 

you're so fragile and righteously angelic; even more than a cute little bird.

You take me far beyond the ticks of the clock 

but your words hurt me and leave me in complete and utter shock.

I look at you and thank God for his masterpiece of perfection

because when I cut a piece, I don't find an exact slice but I look for the honorable section. 

My fingertips sprinkle their magic amongst your coating of flesh

I examine its groups of components and realize its all made out of an underneath mesh.

I've never thought this way of any one before

but when I think of those letters I send you, I just think of advancing and writing more, more, more...

I am now writing about myself, seizing my approval

but now I shall let my pen dettach from this papyrus and I will call this piece "The Removal."