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The Observer

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  • The Observer

    The obstacles are there,
    Within certain moments we encounter
    Of a nature we were built to bear
    But ever,also, made to wonder.

    Hurry I might, with my catchy phrases,
    To deliver that which,seen from underneath,
    Seems light, but I stumble aswell,
    Over a finished word
    And go back often,
    To struck another sound out of that chord;

    My songs are therefore,
    Not to be taken literally.
    For I could say how much I adore
    That which not a moment before
    Pressed on my chest,felt so weary.

    And this happens all the time;
    And I also wonder what “all the time” is.
    Days that I hardly notice,
    Busy with my wording of things,
    I forget there are such things.

    I realize I haven’t seen them in a while.
    I have been seeing you,
    At the periphery of my line of sight.
    My eyes ,charmed
    About a mountain range of words
    Beneath an endless blue
    Of choosing wrongs or rights.

    I’ve been travelling alot, lately.
    I ran a marathon about uncovering the truth.
    And I’m willing to share with you my findings,
    I’m willing to say than when I thought of it,of you,
    It hurt. When I felt , it didn’t.

    Love, is it ?
    Of what force, do we recollect
    When we lean forward and backwards
    Between uncontrolled events
    Of which attraction we are powerless,against ?

    Remind me what love is,
    For I know all too well why we like to do so.
    We complement eachother
    But all inner things have their opposite force at work
    So we compliment eachother.

    I like hearing what I don’t like,
    Because we hardly like to sing
    The songs of our favorite singers.
    They do it better.
    We enjoy their lyrics, be it sorrow,
    Be it about how much I love or I hate her;
    We hate ruining their song with our shallow voices.

    We whisper what they dare entertain a crowd with.
    And when they say it, it’s so good.
    Even as we cry,
    This mirror through which we peak at one another
    Allows us to entertain this mood.

    How often have you hurried to laugh,
    And laugh so madly,
    That they never thought to ask
    Of all those tears in your eyes ?
    Because you’re tired of answers
    Lasting no longer
    Than a revolution of the skies ?

    Tomorrow is a catchy phrase.
    It simply means you’re heading forward.
    And thinking you will be different to-morrow
    Because to-day you can’t…
    Is thinking you’ll be dying sooner
    If you’re about to faint.

    So much emotion hoarding
    Beneath your silent breath,
    Praying to pictures of your loved one
    Thinking you might be saint.
    But underneath the layer of your faith
    The lies are those which thread your fate.

    You said tomorrow, and it never came.
    Tomorrow came, as always
    And in your loneliness
    You found your time to blame.

    Next year maybe ?
    Maybe if you could speak your mind?
    Sure, go scratch the surface of that maybe;
    And when the paint has peeled off,
    What did you find ?

    I found it was filled with air
    And I could write anything
    Where the word stood.
    It is only fair that I’ll never get to know how it feels,
    If I always write about it,
    And positive feedback coming through this mirror
    Says that maybe I should.

    Emotions in themselves have no value
    If there’s no value added to them.
    They are of a nature so much different
    Than how we portray them in words.
    They carry, just as the shape of a cloud
    Carries the water and colour of it.
    You can guess what I’m feeling about,
    Picking off my obvious thoughts.
    You can say it’s allright and it’s good
    But you can never play this song on my chords.

    And so we encourage one another
    To mean what we’re saying and say what we mean.
    You can then say you love how the sky feels
    Because your eyes, knowing truth, are now clean.
    You haven’t cried in a while, since you know how it feels.
    Just talk about it, just try run down a valley
    As if your feet were wheels.

    Do it over and over until you run so fast
    That not a moment goes by,
    Without having a blast
    Beneath that grey overcast !

    Run your fingers
    Through this vast vocabulary thoughts provide.
    At the end of the day there’s nothing you haven’t felt about him or her,
    No emotions left to satisfy your pride.
    And you’ll never admit you would trade all of that
    For a chance at kissing his or her lips
    While yours are sealed so tight.

    You’ll have doubts about yourself.
    About all that you feel
    And often you’ll try to make it right
    By scratching that maybe,
    In between sleep and meals.
    But when the night sets in
    And your chords are still ringing
    Notice that subtle tingling in your heart
    And restlesness of hips.
    The truth ain’t always in the choices that you make
    Once in a while you ain’t even carrying.
    Spiritually,speaking, maybe it means that you’re awake.

    Do kiss those lips that one time when they’re closer,
    Lest you will end up faking being fake.