The Tassel is Worth the Hassle

Maybe thing had been different somehow,

If I only knew then, what I know now.

If I only learned earlier the meaning  of trust,

maybe what we had, didn’t turn to dust.

It’s my fault; I treated you like you’re my property.

I was so afraid to let you see the life’s beauty.

Because of selfish jealousy,

and stupid insecurity.

If only I have been smarter,

Maybe your lo ve and trust didn’t wither.

I know I’m stupid and so unwise,

it took time for me to relize

that beauty has to flourish in the light.

And that I hve to give you back your life.

I’m sorry I was not strong enough to let you go.

Please understand my selfishness,

find it in your heart to forgive my possessiveness.

Don’t worry; I’m nowq ready to watch you walk away.

Though it’s breaking my heart, I won’t stand on your way.

It’s killing me but I won’t beg you to stay.

I’m setting you free, go on and fly.

Find your way back home, I love you, goodbye. 

In the middle of a chaotic night

I hear a loud cry,

A cry for freedom,

Freedom to see the light.

In the presence of a shining light,

I hear a wonderful music  .

A music of freedom,

Freedom from the darkest night.

After a long long cry,

 I saw a bright light.

Alight that breaks the night,

The night of sorrow and death.

After a long wonderful music,

I saw a great celebration.

A celebration for a new day,

The night has gone, the dawn has come. 

I’m in a battlefield

Blinfolded.

Arms clipped.

Legs tied.

How can I fight?

I’m calling for help.

Everyone heard,but nobody listened.

All I know is I’m crawling.

I’m alone out here,

no one can help me.

I have to fight on my own,

because everybody’s fighting in their own

battlefields.

I stumbled many times,

but I have to move forward.

I don’t want to run away

because ther’s no place to run.

Everything is dark.

No lights.

No hope.

How will I survive?

Will I survive,

in this battlefield called

life? 

Does thy pen really write that which you hold as truth?

Or does it feed on bribery-such rotten fruit?

The stories, the pen weaves are all up to you,

forget not: of evils, money is the root.

The world has gone from bitter to bad,

and tomorrow lies on a sinister mind.

For the lives of friends-cry loud, be sad,

 but never again, to the truth, be blinded.

Savage struggle for a few crumbs of bread;

Poverty hit! And man became wolves and sheep,

but shouldn’t you think about it, of greater dread,

to have guilt, visit you while you’re asleep?

Men of great stature will do all they can.

Court you to keep their names clean from smear.

But stivk to the pen’s oath, for the good of man,

and nothing can stop you, not even fear.

But if your pen lives to write the Big Lie,

be careful, Dear, what you’re lulled to sleep by…