The War

I was a young artist at the end of my road with no beginning Many used say they knew exactly who I was But the more I listened to them talk the more I grew defensive to disagree, Because I had to change my personality like I changed my clothes I had a closet filled with skeletons So I took my wardrobe and made a painting out of it I scattered all the colors so that you could see my flaws My failures My dreams and My existence in essence of it all I was a dreamer in a transition from what could have been To what hasn’t begun Confused and confound I wrote of your soul and all the mold in between your inner indecisiveness You questioned your existence and I questioned your thoughts I stood before an invincible audience who sought to see us fall over and over again And so I tried desperately to carpenter your reflection once again As you tired to explain to me that you were only a ghost And your ghost had no reflection I was at war with myself Because you couldn’t let me go Every vibrant experience latching onto the thimbles of time Eventually I drifted away And I constantly gave in to silence of my winter I woke one day In a the season of fall, As the trees cried brown ashes The sun stood before me showing me the misery of the world I had created And I fell heavily under the sky The dirt under my skin crumbled in its own insecurities As a field not to distant from me sang of a lullaby It was loud and desperately calling for a summer that would never come I had little to no direction from nature or the organized chaos of its being Because I was losing myself to memories of a time lost too long ago And so I Believe We are all in the midst of our minds Wondering away from the seasonal changes of our open windows We are artist in the upcoming of a world we have created for ourselves I made my eyes, I made my soul I made the ridges along my rivers of my pain I made the waves of fever in the field of noise And I never thought to speak of it (until today) Because there’s no use in making you understand That the trouble in the violence of my inner being Is but the sparkle in my night sky I am the colors in the painting of my skeletons I am the broken reflections of my being I am the leaves in the moments of my seasons And I seek forth to hear them all fall again The war that I waged against myself 17 years ago Is what I call living And I continue to fight against the strangeness Even if it’s not a fight at all Many say they know exactly who I am But I disagree I’m in the words that tell you more than words can say I’m in the interpretation of the reality you have created for yourself I am, you are, and we will always be Nothing more So create it for yourself Just take a deep breath and create it for yourself For you will never feel more than what you feel today Let it be the greatest fulfillment it could be Let the fall make its way through Let the wind breeze in the way to something new Their will always be another time and another place To avoid it now would be such waste The world is what you make it And I made mine Yeah, I made it.