At peace with the world

Living with the dark clouds
Lightening doesn’t scare me
The thunder brings a beat to my heart
People may say I’m not alive
I say I’m more alive than ever
My heart brings blood to me for once
My blood moves with me not against me
I’ve tried it all and I’ve found it
Let the poor man circulate his blood
He may just be happy with himself

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Mirror image

The body cold to the touch
Eyes shut, mouth closed
I had finally given in
I confirmed the piece of matter
No notes were left behind
No letters were left behind
The guy was once a friend
Lately just a name to bring shame
He was sick
Sick of him
Sick of life
Sick of it all
I questioned myself
Was there a part of me in him?
I didn’t want to answer it
I poured myself a drink
And told myself
My answer would come tomorrow

My old man

He writes letters 

He gives a firm handshake 

He doesn’t put up with bullshit 

He works with his hands 

Still lives in his traditions

Doesn’t know how to use an iPhone

He is my old man 

Who taught me everything I know today

His ways mixed with my new ways 

Is what shapes me 

An old man

But so much more