Let Me Grow Roots

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I was germinated in a bag,
Transplanted into a small pot.
Before I was even full of leaves,
There had been thousands of pots
Of many colors.

As a sapling, I grew strong,
My bark was thick from all the moving
I had done as a seed.
My roots were weak,
But my leaves were large.

When a small tree, I learned something;
My roots didn’t have the time to grow.
I could stay strong regardless of my pot,
Regardless of how many different plants I was not.
My roots could grow strong.

Finally, I decided I was done with all of this.
I wanted to stay still, stand still, and just that.
Let Me Grow Roots, for once in my life.
Let Me Grow Roots, so I can grow large.
I can live on the move, but Let Me Grow Roots.


Let it Burn

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The soft crackle of burning wood,
A constant rushing sound of river,
An overhang of creaking branches,
And glowing embers in the bridge.

Let it Burn and fall down,
Let it collapse to the ground,
Allow it to disappear,
Allow the end to come near.

One side is already gone,
Only ashes of remembrance,
Let it go, and Let it Burn,
It’ll be best for all.

Let the fire take hold,
Let the flames melt the gold,
What used to look safe,
Was built in the wrong place.

Let it Burn, Let it drown
Let the fire take it down,
Let it Burn, let it fall,
Let it be gone, once and for all.


Human Robot

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I am a human robot.
I was meant to be perfect.
Put together with specific parts,
Programmed to follow the rules,
And set with inhibition of emotions.

My programming wasn’t complicated;
Rights are coded in as privilege
My emotions were rather simple;
Accept, understand, submit.
My rules were to the point;
Obey, listen, and observe.

I was meant to be perfect,
But I came with many flaws.

I didn’t follow my program.
I wanted freedom.
I wanted respect.
I wanted equality.
So when my rights were a privilege,
Another part malfunctioned.

My emotions became complicated.
I felt misunderstood.
I felt mistreated.
I felt angry.
So when my feelings were not simple,
Another part malfunctioned.

My rules became broken.
I struggled to obey.
I struggled to listen.
I struggled to observe.
So when these flaws were apparent,
I realized I wasn’t perfect.

I can’t be just a robot.
For that I am too flawed.
My feelings, my rules, my programming,
And my heart are messed up.

I am a human robot.
I come with many flaws.
I forget, I feel, I think,
And I feel pain from messing up.


This Is Mine

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Day by day, for over a year or so,
Every day I wake up and take a small dose.
There’s this poison I need, a drug I live on,
I’ve tried to go without once, but that went wrong.
With care I go on, step by step,
Writing plans for myself that don’t work now.
I’ve learned to accept that not all will approve,
Of who I am, what I stand for, and what I want to do.
I’ve learned to accept that not all will understand,
Of who I defend, what I say, and where I want to go.

This poison of mine has become very special;
I love the feeling of it in my veins.
Sometimes it stings, it hurts once inside,
But this poison I have, This is Mine.
It doesn’t affect my plans,
It doesn’t change who I am,
So this poison I have, This is Mine.
I don’t depend on it,
I keep it by choice,
See this poison I have… This is Mine.
My stock is running low and I won’t get a refill
For in this moment the prescription ran out.
My doctor says I’m better without it,
I should take care of myself,
But this poison I had… This was mine.
I still have the prescription, it’s valid for another month,
But for now I’ll just keep it, in case I relapse.


We Are All Plants

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We are all plants on this planet called Earth,
We look at ourselves and wonder what we’re worth.
Do we have nice bark, flowers, or leaves?
Do we have what it takes to be pollinated by bees?

We look at each each and struggle to understand,
We are all just plants with a different water demand.
Some of us prefer the sun, others need the dark,
But on this planet Earth, all us plants leave a mark.

For some nurture the soil, while others nurture air.
We all do our best to pretend that life is fair.
We are scared, and we are fragile, terrified of pain.
We protect ourselves differently, but we protect ourselves the same.


Temptation of a Burnt Bridge

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I’ve been looking down at the remains of a bridge I burnt,
Wondering how bad the wounds I left had hurt.
I pondered the materials needed if I wanted to fix it,
But then I remembered there was I reason I burnt it.
There’s another island with bridges of its own,
And I’m well aware, to this day it’s burned one,
So it’s still connected to the island you stay,
But despite this connection, I prefer to stay away.

I burnt that bridge mostly because of you,
Given that you didn’t want to cross too.
I remember crossing the bridge whenever I had time,
But it seemed it wasn’t as often as you’d like.
So the bridge was burned because it wasn’t used,
It was only there to accumulate mold and mildew.

I admit to the fact that I don’t know everything,
But you should know the sarcastic jokes sting.
However, in a way they aren’t entirely lies,
I’ve started taking care of myself, to the world’s surprise.
And without much more thought, the temptation was no more,
Mostly because I have much bigger things in store.

For despite my empathy of your island’s pain,
The words you speak are not said in vain.
They act as a pesticide, keeping pests away,
Since that’s what I seem to be, on my island I’ll stay.
I am no longer that selfless fool,
Taking away from myself and used as a tool.
I am a tree growing big and strong,
I am the lyrics to my island’s song.


Treat Me Like I’m Not Real

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A tragic background is not always the definition of a good character
Because I am real and have my own tragic story.
A simple personality is not always limited to a character
Because I am as easy to read as a bad script.
Continuous stupid ideas are not limited to horror films
Because I find myself always making dumb decisions.
An idealistic mindset is not limited to a delusional villain
Because often times I imagine that I can change the world.
Something I have noticed is that being real can hurt
Because many fairytales seem to have a happy ending.
Another thing that hurts is the lack of someone special
Because characters always have that one special friend.
It’s hurtful to notice that things aren’t as easy
Because people don’t dismiss me like a character.
Worst of all is that unreal is treated well
Because they cannot create mistakes past their description.
Maybe for just a moment I would that gentle acceptance
Because sometimes I wish they’d Treat Me Like I’m Not Real.