Some people seriously need to stop focusing on what is negative in this world, I know I am not one to talk, but I atleast try to.
Every day I walk by some people that I stop and think to myself, Why? Why? Why do you need to be that way?
Why can't you just be a little more optimistic and go through life as you deserve to lead life.
Everyday is another day, but you don't want to live day by day, you want to accomplish something with the life your parents gave you.
Believe me, actions are better than words, even though I love to write on this here website.
If every person would just be a little bit more optimistic in life, they would really learn to see the world from another perspective and improve themselves on how they can be.
I'm not saying that you can't be negative because of some sad stuff that just happend a short time ago.
All I'm saying is that you need to overcome them as quick as you can. Than you can move on and be the happy you!
The happy one you want to be!
I know you can do it!
Be happy and optimistic! And keep on writing!
The arguing erupts an artist's harboring calm. A mom a fond lawn knew once as a yawn to call on. Easy pickings, a blissful mission. Ambition in the ambient stored soul. A written man venting is mortal self. The quest yonders down the dirty clothes. Garments grasps stains from the gardens grass. Gain will clean it..
I'm creaky and ached, dragging limbs
in the sunshine bake.
It's not really a walk, or a dance, but a fight
—just to live another day
the way I want in the light.
Stuff keeps piling up.
Useless shit I shouldn't have.
Project fragments tumbling over all my shelves and all my desks.
There's a temptation to twirl
in the center of the room,
with a kerosine can in my hand,
showering everything, before dropping
a match on it all as I drag my limbs
out to the front yard to watch it all expand in anger,
then contract in shame.
Down to dry ash, to be fondled by a breeze.
Down to dimensions past, behind doors without keys.
Down to nothing, leaving just an open space
for a brand new canvas.
What could I do then?
A florist focuses on her floor full of her own flourishing florescence. Formulating a force to form a formidable opponent. Few dispute the beautiful bonnet or the fuel that gives food to bare the fruit of her fair labor. A barrier between a barely able and blare witch fable. We create where we direct ourselves to accept. We favor what we project, never forget. Where we come from, its what we come to wear at our best. Day of depth.
In order for society to win i need to vent. In order to be in solitude i have to let others know where my mind is going. Unfocused as always but still going. Never wanting to stop to smell the goodness in someones worst. Piles of shit is a standard that can be lowered to see my own shit. Im guessing. Reassuring myself without a plan. Im okay i think. Or im not, i think. Im away, i think. Ill stay, i think. But whats the honest truth is that whether or not i like it, Ill pay for whatever ive done. Whether or not ived done anything at all is for my mind to think. Not aloud. Never allowed to sound it out in speech. My mind plays tricks in order for me to sleep. But i trust it from a noble source. To put me on the right course of action, not the same passions ive had before. Just remoi