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Not In Straight Line

*pic courtesy - painting taken from pinterest. I am telling you I am not perfect My bed is messed up all day long I have been said I am nothing but wrong My voice cracks open a tragic song My closet has clothes that don't fit me There are times when even my dog doesn't sit with me I am telling you Life is not supposed to be.. What you want to see.. I have been thrown out, shouted at, made fun of,  everytime I want to change and be free.. I have been called arrogant, stupid, mad, with ideas that shatter... I discovered things that no one in the room thought but only if it could matter.. I am telling you That people aren't perfect and nor they will ever be... If you wait for them to align You will be the one being struck out of line Don't think every criticism is fine Some are horrific with absurd design So what if I am not perfect I can tell that imperfection is abstract Breaking the rules is not nodding to solicitations I have tried, failed, then tried back ...
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Where Hands Were Held

Taking the road with legs that shook..
Unfolding the turns like..
Scraps of the lost book.
Kept walking when the same look…
Was right there as it took.
When those leaves were rustling free…
While the wind came gushing right at me.
Arms snuggled..
Overpowered as the path struggled.
Tracing it’s way through the brook.
When words got whispered..
Gasping to take a breath..
You can’t bring back death.
Try fitting into it’s length.
Shining over was the sun naked..
Piling under were scars sacred.
The giggles, the riddles those rides just unafraid.
Laughter echoed while it crossed the acres wide spread.
Yet it felt that it no longer did meld…
Just stood by myself..
Where those hands were held.
Where the one who remains…
Constantly wanders to get a glimpse of it..
All over again.
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