Unsettling at Best

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So some would say it’s like a rollercoaster.
Others would suggest that it’s like being stuck in a man-sized toaster.
You would never know when it would start.
Or when you’d head straight down head first within your unsteady cart.
Emotions are blaring,
Eyes are certainly glaring.
You are in the right one second,
The next, you’re suddenly beckoned.
You swear you’ve done none of the wreckin’.
Maybe some day someone will lay it all down for you to understand.
Maybe someday you’ll stand above the current with the very last command.

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Times, times, times

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So we danced all night long,
With our hair fully blown,
And we sang and we laughed,
With our hopes on this raft.
Everything was flowing,
Our faces were surely glowing.
We can day that we talked,
But we really know we baulked.
I cling to the past,
But things are moving too fast.
So I’m going to say goodbye,
Instead of getting stuck on hi.

Covers

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The time is coming.
And for a while it all seemed numbing.
But I can see and I can feel it.
I threw off the covers to this frame because it hardly seemed to fit.
But it was too perfect of a match for me to realize.
I thought it should have been resized.
How wrong I was indeed.
And now its coming at me at full speed.
And this time, I am ready for the change.
I’ve unmasked it and now I have surely seen its true colors as bright as day.
It hid behind the excitements of May.
And it is long since overdue.
I feel quite anew.
The horns will be the prize,
And my understanding has seemingly made me all the more wise.

Pieces of Our Story

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Fragments come as the glock that is our life fires astray into the crowd.
Some disregard it all because they are too proud.
The impact is too much for them.
And the rose that blossoms like our understanding gets cut to the stem.
Shards get lost and parts of the story is left to fantasy.
Oh, but just let me see.
Let me know our story from start to finish please.
This is my story too.
And I choose not to stare at the end of the glock just gor you.
Your words are loaded.
Every detail is coded.
I can’t tell if it really happened or if it is all make believe.
From everyone around, these pieces I do receive.
I’m making a collage to hold these parts,
But they are jabbing all nearby like poisonous darts.
The truth to their past lies there alone.
Someone will come and make it into a quilt united hand-sown.
And then I will look to each square to read its hidden truths.
I’ll read it miles on from here to Duluth.
I will understand our past,
And I will hold these shards in my hands at last.
No longer will they pierce those around.
No one will ever feel unsound.

People Don’t Want This Change

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We all say that the present is where it’s at,
But yet we all don’t want to measure up and be the first to take the bat.
Maybe we are afraid to make the hit,
Or maybe we are afraid that once this light is lit…
Well, maybe it won’t burn out.
We all have these doubts.
The stronger of us address it,
But none of us can truly be said to be the strongest.
We all squirm at the uncertainty of what tomorrow holds for me and you.
But, to be honest, we are quite overdue.
I’ll take the first hit and run to the first base,
But I expect you to likewise do the same with much haste.
I’ll continue on to the second and to the third,
I’ll make it to the end.
I’ll take up this bat again.

Blind Spot

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So four years have passed,
And it took me just one day to realize all that I have potentially lost.
They could still be found of course,
But of a lesser value they might be.
I look at the mirror and see the new me.
The old me lies in wait alongside my memories.
People have come
And people have gone.
Some are there to stay,
But I know for a fact that some will always be far away.
Physically or mentally, it’s hard to say.
I will miss the way things use to be,
But I cannot reminisce forever.
Because if I do, I won’t be able to see.
The future would pass me by all too fast.
I will not lie dormant within a homemade cast.
So I will cherish my past,
Keep in touch with those who are here to stay,
And move on to whatever may come my way.