The Field of Forests

There once was a field of forests

Or was it a forest of fields?

Either way, within it

Was a boy who loved the yields

He loved the silence around him

Even though within were things

That no matter what you did

There was something it would bring

He loved the gentle sway 

As he stood on the ground 

And every time he took a leap

You couldn't hear the pound

So everything he loved

Was the silence left behind

For sometimes all the noise you hear

Is what makes you lose your mind

Inside this field of forests

Or maybe this forest of fields

He loved everything it was 

For the silence it yields

To those who do not know

I wrote this based on my migraines but this can really be related to all invisible illnesses. 

To those who do not know

What is there to say?

I'm living with a constant hell 

Dealing in my own way

Some days I must slow it down 

No matter how I try

I know that it isn't my fault

But it doesn't mean that I don't cry

This pain is never ending 

Although you think it ends

At least that means I've done my job 

By distracting you, my friends

Yes I'm a different person

I'm not funny or carefree

But I do care for many things

I have such sympathy
I know you don't know what's inside
You don't, please don't insist
This constant understanding
Isn't even just the gist
So to those who do not know
There's nothing left to say
Just know that through out it all
I'll manage to be okay

Messed Up

You say you really messed me up

But that's not really fair

For how could you know what I was like

If you weren't even there

How dare you walk right out of my life

And then waltz right back in

To tell me that I am your pet

And that we should be friends

I don't think we should speak again

You seem to know it all

So I'll go talk to my real friends

And you talk to the wall

Strings Left Hanging

I'm stuck hanging from some strings

That used to be a lot

 I had many supporters

That kept me in the same spot

But someone went and cut my strings 

And left the weakest ones

So now I'm left wishing to fall

Instead of making my midair run

I wish that person had cut them all

And not left me to cut my own

For now I'm not just without a place

But I took away my own home

I've tried to make the most 

But the most is not a lot

And now I'm stuck deciding

If I should stay or cut off more

The worst place to be 

Is no place at all

When you lose the things that mean the most 

But you're still stuck to some things from your fall

I hate the one who cut my strings

But left the weakest ones

For now I'm left with the last of my past

But never can I be done

Actions

Pairs of Shoes

They were like shoes
The two were a pair
Always together,
Everywhere
Clip, Clop
They made opposite sounds
But put them together
They'd always rebound
This went on for a while
But just like shoes
They began to wear
And there were clues
Clues that things
Just weren't the same
They grew apart
And more unaware
Of the other foot
And what was happening there
After a while
They were no longer worn
And the body that linked them
Wasn't torn
The favorites once
Were no longer worn
And the two friends had the exact same score
A new pair replaced them
And the story goes
The same way that this one was told

The Color Blue

Someone once asked me if I could chose what color that everything was when I died, what would it be? Now, this was a very odd question but it stemmed from the story The Book Thief. When I was asked the question, I immediately knew my answer, blue. I didn't know why though. After lots of thought, I knew why: blue is the color of memories. It's a bitter sweet color; you can feel little bits of dark and light mixed  in to create the vast hues. Blue, as we all know, is a prime color. This means that no two colors can mix together to create what we call blue. Yes, we all know this, but I want to bring to attention the part that prime colors can't be separated into any other colors. Just like the color blue, memories are prime. You can not separate them into good and bad portions. They are forever together.

Emotion

How can you cry without emotion

If your emotions make you cry

For you must know beauty

To cry at the splendor of the sky

To cry without emotion

Is to cry but say no words

But how can tears be anything

If they come from nothing that occurred

Tears fall down because

They come from way up high

And all the tears that you let fall

Have to have a reason why

So you do cry with emotion

For your emotions dictate words

And every tear you've ever shed

Has come from something you've heard.