Scars and Souveneirs

I wrote all of these around like five in the morning when I couldn't fall asleep a month or two ago. The last one... I'm not entirely sure what I was doing. I think I was just really exhausted and sleep deprived so don't judge them too harshly.

We're not friends, we're not enemies
Just strangers with some memories.
The sad part was of you and I,
One wanted us to live, the other to die.
Fighting to keep it alive, I dragged us out,
'Till there was no more reason for either to hang about.
So now we're nothing more then some silent tears,
Left behind as we are; just scars and souvenirs.

Buried in thoughts long gone,
A slow and traumatic song.
It sings of good times; happiness and love
That sort of merriment from above.
Of laughing and hugging
That youthful sweet nothing.
It sings of our loss of connection,
The relationship with infection.
An immeasurable distance not of body but mind,
And of a friendship that now flickers but used to shine.
Our once solid ground is slippery with fears,
So we stumble into darkness; our scars and souvenirs.
Resurfaced ideas that now grip the soul,
The song sings again, the rhyme has become whole.

Your image flashes before my eyes,
While yet again, I believe your lies.
I choose to hope, to let you redeem
And yet again you kill that dream.
I gave you my heart, to be mercifully kind
But yet again you prove to blind.
I try and destroy these emotional spears
And yet you keep me pinned, with our scars and souvenirs.

If I die before I wake,
I pray the Lord my soul to take.
Sign me up and I'll escape,
Let me loose before I break.
Throw me out and shut me down,
But I'll be on top before I drown.
I'll do me in a pearly white gown
And resting on my head that celestial crown.
You do you and fight in vain,
Ignore my words and keep your chain.
You say you're better off 'fore I came
That's cool too, just live the same.
Be careful little eyes what you see
'Cause you satisfy my curiosity.
Show restraint, and avoid the fee
Instead look on God's luminosity.
Lead a nice life, you think you're good?
I understand 'cause that's where I stood.
See God says we do as He says we should.
Let me help make sure it's not misunderstood;
He created us, formed us, and breathed us life
Now we chose to leave, and we brought strife.
Gods plan is for us to be born, not once but twice.
We are redeemed by His son who payed our price.
I'm done with these pain and tears
I've cast my lot, said farewell and cheers.
I dug a grave and threw in my fears,
Buried and forgotten; those old scars and souvenirs.

The Story Left Untold

We watched the movie Antwone Fisher in Film and Culture a couple days ago and I just felt like I wanted to write again. This is going to be based off of my favorite stanza out of a poem Antwone wrote.

"Who will cry for the little boy?
He walked the burning sand
Who will cry for the little boy?
The boy inside the man."

           -Antwone Fisher

What if I told you a story, a story left untold?

A tale so tragic that it should have never been able to unfold.

We start off with a child, a boy no older than three

God's mercy and grace nearly transparent as far as we see.

His parents are not examples they show no sign of character

For his dad is a deadbeat and gone, his mom a walking disaster.

He was bottle-fed beer; a stronger stomach was what they hoped,

His mom was beaten, drugged, held captive, and groped.

Though why no one knew, she stayed and she coped.

She had a heart of gold, and his father abused that kindness

So again and again it became her weakness, a pitch-black blindness.

Fast forward a couple years and now he has a one year old sister

Her dad was shot leaving their mom on her own making her bitter.

They live with their grandparents their mom unfit since the murder.

At surface level fine, but we dig a bit further

We realize that the grandparents have no loving fervor

When it comes to spousal operation it is basically warfare.

His sister is kidnapped, and panic flash through his mind.

His father wants money and almost all humanity has been left completely behind.

She comes back unscathed, everyone shaken by the trauma

Though he stays quiet, for he adopts it as his dogma.

To be seen and not heard when, thinking

He veils himself and builds walls though all done unthinking.

The grandfather an alcoholic and abusive, the grandmother depressed

Our little boy is now eight; a newborn sister has come to rest.

His dad returned if only for a moment, makes no connection with the son

And is soon jailed for years, a complex thought process the boy has begun.

He's a quiet one, introverted by his experiences but caring deeply nonetheless,

Showing off minimal emotion he keeps to himself choosing the road of acquiescence.

Now the stories tempo changes, as we fast forward into his life,

He's seventeen now and a camp experience shines through the strife.

He comes back Spirit filled and his grandparent’s marriage is in complete shambles,

A drunken and provoked rage almost had his grandmother's life become a gamble.

So they moved her out quickly before things got too bad, and the boy moved out on his own.

The boy was now a man, he had gone through a lot to be considered grown.

Off to college to fulfill His calling, he entered the next stage

And we see him press on he writes on the lives of others page by page.

The acquiescent road he chose comes heavily into play, as everyone realizes

That this seemingly together man has troubles internalized.

Piece by piece they begin to discover someone who's walked on burning sand.

Slowly, but surely they discover the boy inside the man.

Slowly, but surely they discover the boy inside the man.