Coming of Age.

Though my love for you remains unchanged, as we sift through the pieces of our past, now estranged. These padded walls and restraints could not even succeed at making me feel more deranged than you did whenever you would act so strange. Our puzzle remains undone, as our story unfolded to reveal that you were not the one. Not to be outdone, I toyed with your emotions, played you like Russian Roulette, and my words were the gun. I pulled the trigger every time I berated you, filled your head with bullets when I would lament that you were slowly making me lose it. My sanity somehow survived the suffering that singed me every time you would avert your eyes. Your gaze phased me more than the grays of my moods that would drown me in sorrow for several stifling days. Yet somehow I stayed amused, bound to you, allowing myself to wrap further around your fingers as if yours was the hand that fed me; but you misled me. Once I became cognizant of the evil and villainous nature it was so easy for you to assume, the walls around me started to cave in, making it hard for me to breathe, as if I was trapped inside the room filled with an unsurmountable and impending sense of doom. Pricked my heart on your loom one too many times for me to resume, or remain within the confines of chaotic control that would consume me, like fire furiously flickers becoming wildfire and spreading through forests ferociously. I am burn victim number one, and you are number two; the damage cannot be reversed now that the pages of our legacy are the reasons why we are both cursed. Revelations of rage run wild, forcing me to remain caged; we are both damaged, although we have finally come of age.

Gratitude.

As each second turns to minutes, and the hours start to pass me by, I see with further clarity, that I am slowly but surely becoming the reason why the sun rises each morning in my sky. I work harder to attain the things that I know that I deserve, no more straws will break this camel's back, the very thought of it is even quite absurd. I was made to move mountains, to soar throughout the skies and Heavens above, instead of being created to endlessly search for, but never find, the prospects, and not promises of unrequited love. I am a force of nature, a soothing breeze when I am calm, or a storm on my worst days, that could even intimidate atomic bombs. Slowly but surely, I am winning the race, and becoming the person that even I would want to date, as I pick up the pace and realize that expectations convolute reality, and disappoint when they are late. I grow older, wiser, and become enlightened, as I enter the promised land; I no longer see a reason to seek another man to fulfill demands that only I will ever be equipped to accommodate or understand. Clipped wings no more, the sky is not the limit, as I possess the potential to become all that the world needs, and adores. I will stop searching for happiness in the blues of another's eyes, cease the futile search for a partner that will make me feel whole again inside. Instead, I have become aware of the beauty that I contain within, cognizant of the colour of confidence now that I have developed an appreciation for the skin that I am in. This newfound humility washes over me, cleansing me of my misdeeds as I sit and contemplate, all of the lessons that I have learned and have yet to learn, choosing to employ my own free will rather than to leave it all to fate. My gratitude increases as I count my blessings every day, I thank the universe and God above for holding my hand when I was lost, and helping me regain my footing; I am finally on my way.

Eternity.

My tiny hands hold yours whenever the world makes me feel so small, as you whisper words of wisdom, and remind me to breathe to prevent myself from further falls. Inconsistency, no stranger to me, cowers in fear when you are near. You are my tower of hope, beacon of strength, and the rungs to my ladder which help me climb to higher lengths. As I break and shatter as easily as an egg, you crack the whip harder and remind me that I was born a king, and never made to beg. With your support, I am invincible, the sky even fails to be my limit; you have managed to capture my heart in the best of ways, and with it you have won all the beauty, love, and honesty that are contained within it. Friends may come, whilst others go, like roses, and graves that line life's rows, yet beauty remains in the calmness of your voice, in the ways in which you remind me that even some victims have a choice. Mansions in paradise await for you to claim your keys, as it is solely true friends like you that are ever able to emulate the tropical breeze that is sought out to make us feel at ease. Although the days between our reunions often turn into weeks, and then even months; I am forever indebted as I count my blessings, that I was fortunate enough to lay eyes on you even once. My heart overflows with love at the mere thought that our paths crossed and that we coexist; often, when I am sad, or blue, just the thought of you, is enough to dismiss the sadness that devours me whole and send it tumbling towards my own antagonistic abyss. Gratitude sets the mood whenever memories of us rise to the surface; your unfaltering friendship is often enough to take mere fantasies and fairy tales and weave them into actual bliss. Without you, there is no me, for your guidance often led my way like shepherds lead their sheep. Any time I need a helping hand or just a shoulder on which to lean, I am thankful to have been blessed with friends who never hesitate to intervene. Although this Superman has been reaching out for help more frequently now than in days gone by, he is eternally blessed to have been caressed by the lives of kindred spirits who are my truest friends, and in actuality, Earth angels in disguise.

Sonnet.

Now that you are resting, I will softly sing you lullabies, and whisper sweet nothings solely, the kind that even bitterness does not despise. I will tell you the tale of the sweet sister heroine who marched proudly along, who despite her many sadnesses still sang the sweetest songs. My guitar gently weeps as it replays your life, a masterpiece canvas that devoid of its strife, was often filled with more strength than even the sharpest of knives. As a child, I would emulate you, follow you around and mimic your every move. Now that I am older, your caustic wit, attitude, and confidence helped me get into and then remain in the groove. You are a legacy, an epic to be shared with generations to come, yet these tears fail to cease as I fail to feel numb. The weather was sweet, the sun you often referenced came out and shone bright for you, and as it grew dark, the mysterious moon made a magnificent appearance, so I could soundly say good night to you. With you serenely asleep, I will paint with vibrancy to ensure that my own life is twice as sweet, I will grow into the man who remained idle until now, and rise from the ashes instead of falling victim to defeat. I sing you to sleep, as I am rest assured that slumber has received you well, yours is a sonnet that my lips will eternally retell.