"Pain throws your heart to the ground,

Love turns the whole thing around.

No, it won't all go away, it should,

I know the heart of life is good."

Let the world spin round again,

it's just but another day to get by.

Some might not be as well off as the others,

but it'll take me back to a highpoint again,

someday.

I'll sniff around and make more new discoveries for now,

hoping to experience that rush of euphoria once again,

maybe this time - prolonged.

B.

Blackbird

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night,

Take these broken wings and learn to fly.

All your life,

You have only been waiting for this moment to arise.

Blackbird fly,

Blackbird fly,

Into the light of the dark black night..."

While the song itself might be intended to bring back

the events of a civil movement back in time,

it also calls for a spark of hope,

yielding in new beginnings.

Just as the pendant you've bore to me as a gift,

That I may have headed myself to yet another dead end,

I won't give up,

not just yet.

I won't give up in the sense that

I would continue to go on my search,

Setting out on expeditions

with new rules to remember by.

With you I've learnt to be true to myself,

no regrets.

I still want it to happen though.

B.

I thought all it'd take were some tears,

so to rid of the anger towards myself

for being so naive.

It doesn't work that way,

apparently.

Feelings prevail,

and it's up to time to wash them away.

Because,

of all the things that I don't seem to recall in life,

there's one that seems to be engraved into the back of my mind;

I just can't remember to forget you.

B.

I need to write about you.

It's fading.

I could feel it all slipping out of my tightly clenched fist,

Walking beyond my reach.

Finally do I understand that it's all but a result of misinterpretation,

a blurry vision -

this is the destined life of a dreamer.

What else do I do all day long,

but wait and anticipate the day I am too, sought after

by another lonesome soul like mine?

Pathetic.

But I asked for the ride,

and I'm still up for it.

Should I get off after this single journey,

or wait until all my hopes and dreams are sent back from abroad on the return,

so they get locked back into the depths of a deteriorating cave,

my heart?

B.

"Met you by surprise,

Didn't realise

That my life would change

Forever.

Saw you standing there,

Didn't know I'd care.

I feel something special

In the air."

Dreams are my reality,

and had I not dreamt,

I have no idea how I would've sustained my life

through the past 18 years.

They keep me going because

it makes what I'm hoping to achieve

be in sight,

or at least create the illusion of so.

I often get played

by falling into traps I lay.

Now I realise that it's all okay,

for there's never pleasure if there's no pain.

B.

When doves cry.

You're the one I dreamed of having a future with;

And never before have I reached this stage.

The thought of seeing the end to this tunnel of imaginarium,

the limit to our possibilities,

pains me in the form of a wrenching heart.

In fact, my lungs, organs and soul,

gets so caught up in the act of worrying

as it gets tied up in the strands of thoughts

that are weaved by you.

Untie my misery,

if you won't take me in,

at least set me free?

B.

Slide downhill.

The fact that today's been a fine daymakes me regret it even more that I haven't taken the provision of this natural phenomenonto it's full advantage. All in all, what I'm yearning for is a day well spent with a preferable company.

Certainly, once something of a 'high' has been experienced, the waves of 'lows' would rush up immediately, each causing a greater contrasting point away from the peak,

until the buildup of another pinnacle.

I hope from today onwards, it'll all be going upwards again,

because I certainly could not stand any further disagreements and disharmony between people in the household.

If only you and I could run away

and leave behind everthing else,

just for a while.

But that is a naive thought,

especially having just read the Nightingale and the Rose.

Wilde has a point,

what is love really, another opposition to the ways of the logical world?

Ironically, it's also what's kept me going.

B.