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If I Could Give You the Stars and Outer Space

What sort of love is this?

Do you think of me when the morning dew hits?

In my arms do you feel any bliss,

A sudden need for a kiss?

There is love, but of what kind?

Confused passion for we are blind.

We are the scars left on another over time.

Or have we settled-assuming true love we’ll never find?

I feel no warmness from you.

When times of happiness are seldomly few.

Why do we return expecting something new?

My inmost thoughts you pretended you knew.

I don’t want love like your movies on lifetime.

You should already know me without a lifeline.

I wish we had met at the right time,

Never really felt you to be all mine.

You fight yourself from change.

Both of us can’t seem to act our age.

But I somehow found a way,

Into my soul- things I cannot convey.

If this is what I’m left with,

I’ll have nothing at all.

Love has become some myth

Leading me unto the Fall.

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Saturated Souls Seldomly Settle

Look at them there.

Pointing, charting, analyzing unto death.

Everyone’s trying to sell you something.

Every month we owe money to someone we don’t know.

Consuming, breeding, tantalizing unto death.

Distractions are ample. Be it games for the people or new shopping malls;

Our gaze is ambiguous and fixed this way and that.

Humanity is the sickness of the Earth.

You there, what is your purpose, I beckon.

The fat man behind the counter is made to service the company and the customers.

Somehow he is okay with his baseness.

Is it ignorance? Lack of understanding?

No, he is merely comfortable in his conformity.

He makes ends meet, all the food is affordable, and within proximity.

It could be worse, he thinks to himself as he imagines being homeless-

or having been born in a less developed impoverished nation.

Yet he never imagines how much better it could be.

We could be better.