I am turning my back on the dream, and the obsession of making it work. I've been hesitantly lingering at the corner trying to hold on with one hand to the past we've built together. A past that it has dried out and a past of solitude and mutual frustration, but I past we also started with hope and what we thought was love. My other hand is on the edge of the corner, pulling, as I try peeking at what might be around this corner of uncertainty.
I am at the corner of uncertainty split between what has been and what could be. Torn between letting you go, and being reborn into something beautiful. There is pain and loneliness when I turn back, and there is hope, but fear when I look ahead.
I am frozen unable to move, speak and think and I can feel time passing by like a blob of molasses eating everything in its path and it is in that path where my dreams and my history collide making it impossible to distinguish what I am and what I want to be.
And I hate myself for wanting to live in the past, and at the same time so afraid of the future missing the now; the now which is running through my hands like a burning liquid evading my consciousness.
It is goodbye though, it is the murder, the killing, the destruction of my own destruction, and being reborn. Grabbing hold of what really matters, what fuels me, what is. The becoming of me, and the acceptance of my own faults, but most importantly, the acceptance of my humanity and the perfection of being me now. Not what I was or what I will be, but the realization and celebration of me... NOW!.
I am at the corner of uncertainty split between what has been and what could be. Torn between letting you go, and being reborn into something beautiful. There is pain and loneliness when I turn back, and there is hope, but fear when I look ahead.
I am frozen unable to move, speak and think and I can feel time passing by like a blob of molasses eating everything in its path and it is in that path where my dreams and my history collide making it impossible to distinguish what I am and what I want to be.
And I hate myself for wanting to live in the past, and at the same time so afraid of the future missing the now; the now which is running through my hands like a burning liquid evading my consciousness.
It is goodbye though, it is the murder, the killing, the destruction of my own destruction, and being reborn. Grabbing hold of what really matters, what fuels me, what is. The becoming of me, and the acceptance of my own faults, but most importantly, the acceptance of my humanity and the perfection of being me now. Not what I was or what I will be, but the realization and celebration of me... NOW!.
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