We Did Alright

So, yet another thing I’ve written a bit ago. I don’t know if it makes sense, but either way-enjoy!

Remember when we were younger, and things didn’t matter to us, other than making sure we made it to bed on time before mom suspended our tv privileges?
Remember when we lived in a time where reality was just something that we saw on TV, that the games we played used Tonka Trucks, pretending that they were all stuck in the mud, come in off the bike all dirtied up, and the biggest fear was what we messed up with the dirt on our shoes?
Yeah?
   Wish I could say that was the truth for now, but the thing is that I look back on the memories, and I’m starting to realize they weren’t all happy for me. I struggled with so much to stay in the same spot, claim that I’ve done a lot, look at me now, I hit emotional highs and bring myself down, claim I’m what will bring fame to this horror-ridden town.
See the truth is that behind the smile I copy and paste onto my face, I struggle so much.
She’s a good girl they say as I walk away, with a fake smile on my face like everything’s okay. Convince myself I’m being ridiculous like I don’t have a role in this, the mess I call a life of mine, what the heck am I suppose to do this time?

The truth is I’ve never known where I was going or what I was supposed to do. Blame myself, but claim it wasn’t true. I worked my hardest to get here, in the mess I call my life, and as much as I hate myself for it, I’d still say it’s alright. Maybe it’s no longer toy trucks in our years, but we’ve had the memories, and we’ve had our fears-and look where it’s got us, this mess of a life, something that, in the end, shows we did alright.

A Personal Piece of Heaven, with a Taste of Hell

Everytime I walk into the room, somethings different. A small thing, even my perspective.

Been living in it for a while, some days feelin’ like I’m dying in it. I dream my dreams, plan my schemes. That rooms where I had my best days, thought I was great, came back to ground zero, feel nothing but hate. It’s where my nightmares were born, my fears and addictions stormed. That room is where I lived for so long, my personal piece of heaven, mixed with a taste of hell.

It’s where I’d go to hide, to lock my tears inside. It’s where my nails met my skin, invisible scars that shouldn’t have been. It’s where I’d go to cry at nights-whether it sending a prayer to God, asking Him to make it alright. To show me things I shouldn’t, to make me a person I couldn’t be. That rooms where I dealt with rejection; fought against affection. Rejected God, claimed a passion for things I couldn’t stand with. I lost myself in that room, but I found myself there, too. A lot’s happened in that little room. My personal heaven, a retreat if you will,, but where I retreat to find emotions inside. Welcome to my slither of heaven, with a taste of hell.

It’s a Reality

So currently, I’m feeling a little under the weather, having pushed myself a bit further then I should have, so rather then write a book review (those take me a surprising amount of work), I really just wanted to do a smaller post, bringing back a poem, actually. So out of all the poems, this one’s not my best work, however, I don’t think it’s terrible, so that’s why I’m giving it a spot. Not to mention, it’s something I’m writing on a whim, and not a thought out poem. This one’s actually dedicated to my little brother, who is the most amazing guy, but is finally being hit by some very hard emotions in his life.

I love my brother with my life, and from the very beginning I promised myself that I would protect him with my life. That being said, this poem goes out to anyone, fighting for a reality, and going through multiple ones.

Remember to live your life like the ginchy story that it is!

HaziWords

His Reality

By:Hazi

It’s the silent cries that come from the night,

That reveal what laughter once hid,

The tears that stream, the pain that gleams,

When reality comes into view,

That the child-like dreams and schemes

Become a young mans attempt to fight

To grow to become something bigger then them..

The decisions to let reality be his drug, to take him under,

It’s slowly becoming his reality.

The reality that what he once trusted, can’t be trusted.

A painful, cruel reality, pushing the child-like passions.

It’s the harsh words and the painful memories, fighting,

Turning the cries at night to anger in the day, the anger that takes the morning,

His reality.

The reality that every dream and scheme, laughter and uncertainty, has become

Nothing but a distant reality, as fears collide, and bring a young man alive,

Hoping to show a brave young man, that despite his battles,

That eventually, laughter and trust, and all that was messed up, will become

The pass, as he bravely takes on a new reality, of faith and trust,

laughter and passion, boldly shining, the new reality.

Trust to Understand-Poem

I’m posting these because I can’t seem to get the words to come out for poetry right now. Anyways, here’s another poem. Honestly, it kinda makes me cringe. (It’s another poem I wrote last year).


The world around me surrounds
The fear around me abounds
The tears that fall down my face
The darkness from which I cannot wake
The light I struggle to find
I can only be grateful to the Lord
For the strength to keep on
Even though I feel alone, and my faith wavers, I always find Him.
Even though the words struggle to form, I can trust Him, to understand.

At the Cross 2

I think I went through a stage where I was really questioning if I was worth everything God had done for me. Anyways, another poem I found in my journal, I hope ya’ll find it interesting!


The solemn silence that fills this place.
The Broken hearts longing to be replaced, the worried tales of a lie, the painful sounds of unspoken cries.
The lost cries to the wind, the silent pain and suffering, wondering if it will ever end.
Am I trapped here, am I lost? Will I ever be the worth of the paid cost?
Will I ever find my peace?
The hope of a truth.
The pain of a wound, the cry of the lost, it comes at a cost.
Am I trapped here, am I lost, will I ever be the worth of the cost?
All the lies they ever tell
All the stories they never
spoke
Faces, laughter, pain, they’re becoming the same.
Cries to the wind, lines and truths, they blur.
The cost is higher than my worth, it seems official, I am lost.
In the pain, and suffering, crying and the pain, freedom sounds to the wind
Something inside me breaks.
The cost paid in full. Tears of laughter, and of hurt, finally have it’s worth. I have finally found my worth, paid at the cross.