Sometimes
I hate the world like a restless thing
That cracks when it’s dropped and yells;
it won’t whisper.
I hate the world with a moon so big
the craters are worlds
With caves to get lost in.
And the water meets the shores so gentle, everything made sentimental.
I hate the world with the books made
of nothing,
And the fake words on paper only make
you feel safer.
And stars bruise the sky – these greetings mean nothing.
I hate the world with light where that
darkness should be
And smiles stretch wide. I don’t want to feel it inside,
The saccharine glow, the sickly sweet snow.
I pick flowers from their roots, where
they should not grow.
I hate the world where all is made right
and there’s no reason to fight.
But then sometimes it’s a whisper,
and words are spoken softly,
And there are caves to get lost in.
The water pounds away at the shore.
And the words tell an unspoken story, though the image is gory.
There’s a picture in the stars we once saw,
The greetings, they are raw.
And the scattered darkness likes to consume
The fake smiles that give way to a frown
so wide.
I want to feel it inside.
It doesn’t glow anymore. The snow wasn’t red before.
The flowers make way for the weeds
that grow inside of you.
It’s not that bad. There’s a reason to fight.
Not everything’s right.
The things undreamed of, I finally write,
And I love the world like a restless thing.