Let me be my own Herakles,
as you watch me grow,
upon and unto your eyes;
yet when the crucial time that is ripe I am free
of your training,
of your edifications,
of your love you gave. . .
In one swoop my Icarus wings are built,
fascination will be my own downfall,
and I would fall,
so shall it be then,
I will plummet but rise into mine own.
it does not have to be,
it does not want to.
For if it was written,
one dirge comes first before the thirst: then it follows.
another deluge cometh; yet rainbows of promises are on the way.
So please don’t wallow, subscribe to your soul and follow
where its asking you to slowly smile,
look up then after you’d know there is no place you would rather be.
Then it was written at the part of my history,
Now thus the life I have to taste,
Of this abysmal ryhming of monotoned glory.
Ther3 is a cloud
among clear skies,
It is barking up
Why of all things
does it cry?
Becaus3 in my eye,
a pressure so severe
it does do nothing but form.
Pen and paper
May 2017 @rtsydhude
So to know you can be
what it you ought to see
The life of my own plea,
I will not start this with you,
However plain simple and cruel;
Dont ever dare go there.
In spite of my own influence,
upon these grass of ruin.
In spite of the inspirations
thus it leaves death comes after the grass.
the rock turned to the moss,
gave it a name,
coz it wanted to gain momentum,
It called it,
While the water was flowing.