Killing the moment

This is the day for slaying my fears
for killing the moment
and emerging from the rubble that is my life, like one of Shakespeare's tragic heroes
This is the day.

This is the day for correcting mistakes
And forgetting the ones I can't fix
moving on and living as if nothing can touch me
This, this is the day.

I worry too much about hurting other people
and all I wind up doing is hurting myself instead
I'm afraid to stab a friend in the back.
So I shoot myself in the foot.
I talk about living life with my heart on my sleave
but I don't.
Some days I wonder if I even have a heart.

I need to move on, to get out of this one hat town
But I'm too busy thinking about the people I'll leave behind.
I'm scared to kill the moment, even though it's mine to kill
I'm scared to walk away, even though lingering is risky

but I don't want to walk with my eyes fixed on the ground
Or to run, constantly glancing over my shoulder
I think it's high time that I stopped hiding behind my cliches
and just lived.

I feel like I've lost

My inspiration the way that you lose a -a what?-
I don't know. I've lost my inspiration
But it's selective
I've lost my poetic drive over the past while
but I've written three songs in the last week
and I've dreamed up a few really amazing pieces of artwork.
and I've done all kind of creative, inspired things
I just haven't written any good poetry.
But it's coming, I know it.
Something more creative than anything yet
a truly inspired poem is on its way
Just as soon as I find the inspiration to write it.

Growing up

I woke up to gray sky and rain falling on my window pane
rolled out of bed and pulled on my runners
and I ran

I sailed the world in the rubber lifeboat with the number ninety-nine on the side
traveling farther from home with each wave
and I went

I remember being six years old and thinking that if only I could fly
then nothing could touch me
nothing could hurt me if I could fly
If I could run just a little bit faster
than everyone else in the world
nothing could ever make me cry again

I opened the door upon the rainiest day the westcoast has ever seen
walked all the way to school in the cold
and I sighed

I flew as high as my small wings would take me, up into the sky
waltzed with the birds and looked down
and I dived

I remember being six years old and thinking that if I closed my eyes
the whole world closed theirs too
nothing could hurt me if I didn't see it.
If I could just pretend a little bit longer
than everyone else in the world
nothing could ever hurt me again.

I stared out the classroom window and out past the rain and I saw you
wished for the day to be over, to walk by your side
I was in awe

I held your hand and I walked into the sunset, not realizing not seeing
Until I opened my eyes, acknowleged the truth
and I saw

I remember being six years old and thinking that forever had meaning
and that a promise was always true
nothing could break the bond of a pinky swear.
If I could just make you love me more
than everyone else in the world
you would never hurt me again.

But today I realize that leaving doesn't meaning running away
and that wings melt and fast running feet will only leave you far behind
I see that sighing doesn't always mean the worst is over
And that closing your eyes only protects you from yourself
Little did I realize that our forever promises were fragile
that they meant the world to me and nothing to you
And I can walk away with my held high
Or I can stay and be pushed down to the level at which you can handle me
But if I close my eyes, and pretend that you don't hurt me
I'm not helping myself, and I'm certainly not helping you