Another old journal entry april 8 2008



after the pheonix burns

 Everytime I open my mouth, all this stuff I shouldn’t say… Just falls right on out. And I’m not trying to make things harder, and I’m not trying… To push this thing farther. And I’m not trying, I’m not trying, I’m not trying, but I’m crying with the dying of who I used to be. I am pheonix with the burning, rising from the ashes I am yearning, for this thing I am only learning now is inside of me. I an stronger, I have grown, I am wingless, yet I’ve flown, I am dreaming with the peaceful strength that only comes with pain of the length. Of time a woman spends with a man she don’t call friend. I don’t call the wind… Baby, you know it calls to me. Whispers quiet words to me: “child you are free” And finally I see. I am the one that held back, and I am the one who lost track, I am the one who had the lack. Of confidence. So I got lost a bit. Wandered aimless, said i was blameless, became one of the nameless. And hid my shining face. Now I turn it to. The sky the seems to shine through, the night sky, it’s not black, it’s blue. and brighter now, that I have learned how to speak the unreachable truth. I can be alone, I am my own home. This skin I’m in, I stand within. And I’m comfortable for the first time. Because I belong, and I am mine. And standing, on both side of the window, looking out and looking in, well I don’t know. How to follow the path of the rainbow, but I know where it ends and where it goes, and that’s good enough for me. Standing beside me, living inside me, having this pride I can justify, in me. I am the light, I am the laughter, I am my own damn happy ever after. You want to hold the moon? well then just ask her, she’s comfortable enough in her own place. And all the human race… We can learn a bit from the butterfly, yes I’m talkin you an I, here for such a short time. But we all can learn to fly, pretty wingspans patterened out against the grey sky… Isn’t strange, how all things change, never stay the same from the start of one, one, one, one day… To the next. And the rest, as they say is history, cept when it comes to me, then it constantly repeats. Til I break this chain. I won’t refrain. And I have my coffee, I’ve got my tea, drink my inner beauty, til it come spilling out, all over you. 


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