Poetry

also-

This is hard, I think.
Of course it is, a voice replies. Everything comes about through effort.
But some things are harder than others, I say. It's not like I'm surprised.
This life will always be hard. Don't expect it to change.
I perceive the disingenuousness of the voice. My anger is rising, and so does my inner voice.
Why can't I change anything? Sure, life will be hard, but this doesn't have to be! This life, this world, is subject to change! Why not change it for the better?
People don't like change, you know.
So concise, I scoff.
People only change things out of convenience, the voice sneers.
But I changed! I didn't change because it was easy! And besides, don't things change all the time?
We're talking about change in two different senses. Sure, your body changes as you get older, but that isn't the same as changing an entirely man-made system.
Why do people want things to stay the same all the time?
Convenience, the voice says simply. A fabrication of security. For the sake of making this life more certain than it is. Any discrepancy would seem harmful to that.
That seems… very narrow-minded.
Aah, you humans. All so different, yet still very much the same. The voice sounds almost amused.
We are all the same species, after all, I say. Hm, now we're talking about sameness in two different senses.
The voice doesn't reply. It has left me. I lay there pensively, wondering.

Something I randomly came up with, inspired by real-life events, ig

Communication, communication, communication
They say
But what is understanding?
I speak, I write, my mind pours out
I try
But my words lose their footing
Broken syllables and missing nouns
Can I solve the social puzzle?
My tongue flops or my hand shakes
And I’m left with a dented perception of someone else’s conception
Of me
Where, when, how, why
Is friendship forged?
The depths of hardship, a season of peace?
Through another, or common interest?
Friendship is as random as my words
My navigation of it gives little, precious fruit
All the same, there is a foundation of
Communication, communication, communication

its not very good but here:

She walks through the door with the a song in her head;
Her presence seems as if it could wake the dead.

She struts as if floating on air,
Only leaving those to stare.

As her head bops to the beat,
she hears the pounding of feat.

Her spine shiver in response,
to a tap tap tap from the side of her back;
Swiftly, she faces the culprit of the taunts;
Then, the stranger smiles right on track.

The stranger asks her for her number,
and it seems she has found another.

But, when will they aproach for more than a simple exchange.

Not once has one of these men,
thought to talk first;
Not once has one of these men,
looked past the facade.

Not once.

Dude, what! It’s soooo good!

(These are really beautiful guys, I love it!)

title theme-

contrary to popular belief
icarus flew

he laughed as he fell;
veins of wax scorched his back.
a reminder that
the sun can't shine for just one person,
though he so desperately wanted apollo's kiss

he basked in the beauty of burning when you weren't supposed to

and even though
the ground was fast approaching,
icarus soared