They fell like leaves
that have worn out their welcome
to an audience of confused wind.
The folding and bending....
.... some falls don't cease.
They decrease in ease
and there is no peace
and barely an ending.
If asking me,
the fall is what rules.
If asking you,
to fall is for fools.
Faith never breached
so deep you could reach
no matter how deep
and pull out some pity.
Self imposed defeat
you've learned to repeat
and blame on your history;
never learning
that love is an answer
and life is a mystery.
Not the other way around.
So distracted in your search
on your perch
that they still plummet to the ground.
What are your gifts worth anyway?
On days like this,
a wish used to be sufficient.
Hope had more proclivity
but now,
you scoff at sympathy
as if you've landed already.
Your "balanced" calculations
a mere rationalization
of unsubstantiated selfish insecurities
hinged on likelihood
you likely would look to
adversely alter to your advantage.
Please procure a bandage
or ten.
Yet again,
amid the scratch
and the scrape,
the stitches,
the scotch tape
and all that effort
that once meant something to you,
you let them crash.
You find time for delay when asked
to recount some glimmer in your ink well
so they fell.
Favoring your back to display it
but what abruptly meets the pavement?
Stayed with your stave
as a slave to your disdain
as if to wear this pain
in layers that hide no smile....
....will they sit there awhile?
No summit for the somber storyteller?
Can't weather a climate
quickly created for the wrong reasons.
Neither of the seasons
will grant such without forewarning.
Global warming didn't cast your cloud.
Conditions blatant.
Loud.
Exclaiming your existence
given a level of persistence
that will not pay off this lifetime.
Like mine,
yours were meant for flying
regardless of how high you're climbing
or how wide and vast the distance
but now this instant
when you leap,
you'll claim no current as your seat
and those you've passed
won't see you complete
that fall from your perch
to claim the street.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
so deep you could reach
no matter how deep
and pull out some pity.
Self imposed defeat
you've learned to repeat
and blame on your history;
never learning
that love is an answer
and life is a mystery.
Not the other way around.
So distracted in your search
on your perch
that they still plummet to the ground.
What are your gifts worth anyway?
On days like this,
a wish used to be sufficient.
Hope had more proclivity
but now,
you scoff at sympathy
as if you've landed already.
Your "balanced" calculations
a mere rationalization
of unsubstantiated selfish insecurities
hinged on likelihood
you likely would look to
adversely alter to your advantage.
Please procure a bandage
or ten.
Yet again,
amid the scratch
and the scrape,
the stitches,
the scotch tape
and all that effort
that once meant something to you,
you let them crash.
You find time for delay when asked
to recount some glimmer in your ink well
so they fell.
Favoring your back to display it
but what abruptly meets the pavement?
Stayed with your stave
as a slave to your disdain
as if to wear this pain
in layers that hide no smile....
....will they sit there awhile?
No summit for the somber storyteller?
Can't weather a climate
quickly created for the wrong reasons.
Neither of the seasons
will grant such without forewarning.
Global warming didn't cast your cloud.
Conditions blatant.
Loud.
Exclaiming your existence
given a level of persistence
that will not pay off this lifetime.
Like mine,
yours were meant for flying
regardless of how high you're climbing
or how wide and vast the distance
but now this instant
when you leap,
you'll claim no current as your seat
and those you've passed
won't see you complete
that fall from your perch
to claim the street.
Written By: Devin Joseph Metz
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