I just made this with no intention of doing so. I was just listening to a song and BANG! It came out as this:
Lost Meadow
By Kat
Lately I have found my self laying in a pool of worries, thoughts, and wishes.
Wondering if I will ever be with someone in person again.
Because I have come to the conclusion that I am truly and incredibly unwanted.
Someone whom I have cared for finds another woman in his arms,
And one that I have loved for so long, seeing that he does not feel the same emotions as I do for him.
What has become of this cruel, lifeless world.
A world of whispers of music,
Crying of the wind,
Mourn set at entertainment,
Pain as payment.
Your tears are like a lullaby to others,
But like razor blades to me.
Do others see
What I do through these big, golden eyes.
Do they feel what I feel on this pale skin of mine,
Do they not shiver like I do,
When a breeze comes by to welcome me in this frozen time,
In this lost meadow of time,
It is mine.
Can I ask?
When you cry,
Does anyone comfort you?
Do they hold you
Like I do?
Are they at all willing
To comfort the saddened
Like they used to?
Will they ever make beautiful music
Scream from the grand pianos again?
Will they ever dance
And live again?
No, instead they walk with smiles upside down,
They haven’t been taught proper beauty
Like I have.
To enjoy life while it last
Because it is too short to be sad.
They look at me as something different,
An experiment.
Something not from here.
What is here, exactly?
What? A world of nothing but the same.
Same, same, same,
I tell you.
Everyone is the same,
Where is the laughter?
The soothing giggles from young children?
Where are the smiles?
Where is the beauty of woman,
And the generosity of man?
Where are the emotions?
Where art thou?
I have sought and sought
For so long.
And so far,
The only difference I have found is right here,
Where I lay.
In the wintered meadow,
The frozen green grass,
Slowly turning with nature,
In circles, circles of change,
Dying.
Falling pale like me,
And glistening snow resting on my white cotton dress,
Sleeping for now.
Spirits of old,
Dancing to the base of the Cello instrument.
I see them,
Alive and well,
Humming women,
Swirling as their dresses twirl around this dying world.
As the seconds slowly lead to our death.
And I truly believe that the good, the hidden,
Will find the first breath of life
Tucked away in the sky
In God’s perfection,
Heaven.
Where the birds shall sing,
And we dance,
Not a care in the world.
And this pool of worry, sadness, and tears,
Thoughts, wishes, and fears all go away.
They disappear in the darkness
And make their way to hell,
As a punishment to those who have sinned
And let this cruel earth change who they are
To let it fool them into finding greed and lust
To be a must
That’s not life,
Life is full of joy
As every breath we take is written in his book
A beautiful book of just us
And the child’s imagination is pushed to it’s limits
And made into the beautiful dreams that fallow them later in life.
A guidance of a purpose,
A writer with meaning,
To write his or her own books,
To push their dreams into someone else’s eyes to enjoy the happiness they have found.
As others find something else.
An Artist possibly,
Someone who lets the world see the beauty they have seen
By painting a picture
While knowing that they are truly capturing God’s creation
Seeing what no man could ever make by fakes.
And don’t forget the musicians,
The song writers who bring peace in hand,
The singers that send chills down our spines with their echoes of voice.
The dancers who bring entertainment and fun.
Everything that isn’t here now.
For that is only one thing I wish was,
Something to enjoy,
Some happiness,
No more sorrow.
No more pain.
No more silence
Because silence is sought as just a word to many,
But to few,
It is the breath taker
Then depression giver
The screamer
It is full of pain and tears
Always a fear.
I hate it,
But when spoken to a common crowd,
It is commonly known.
But, do they truly know silence?
Silence
Say it in your mind ten times
And think
What is it?
I have believed it to be
A taker of lives,
But also a peaceful rhythm in life,
Something that can give us some time to think.
But the good here, is not seen outside this lost meadow.
Lost Meadow
By Kat
Lately I have found my self laying in a pool of worries, thoughts, and wishes.
Wondering if I will ever be with someone in person again.
Because I have come to the conclusion that I am truly and incredibly unwanted.
Someone whom I have cared for finds another woman in his arms,
And one that I have loved for so long, seeing that he does not feel the same emotions as I do for him.
What has become of this cruel, lifeless world.
A world of whispers of music,
Crying of the wind,
Mourn set at entertainment,
Pain as payment.
Your tears are like a lullaby to others,
But like razor blades to me.
Do others see
What I do through these big, golden eyes.
Do they feel what I feel on this pale skin of mine,
Do they not shiver like I do,
When a breeze comes by to welcome me in this frozen time,
In this lost meadow of time,
It is mine.
Can I ask?
When you cry,
Does anyone comfort you?
Do they hold you
Like I do?
Are they at all willing
To comfort the saddened
Like they used to?
Will they ever make beautiful music
Scream from the grand pianos again?
Will they ever dance
And live again?
No, instead they walk with smiles upside down,
They haven’t been taught proper beauty
Like I have.
To enjoy life while it last
Because it is too short to be sad.
They look at me as something different,
An experiment.
Something not from here.
What is here, exactly?
What? A world of nothing but the same.
Same, same, same,
I tell you.
Everyone is the same,
Where is the laughter?
The soothing giggles from young children?
Where are the smiles?
Where is the beauty of woman,
And the generosity of man?
Where are the emotions?
Where art thou?
I have sought and sought
For so long.
And so far,
The only difference I have found is right here,
Where I lay.
In the wintered meadow,
The frozen green grass,
Slowly turning with nature,
In circles, circles of change,
Dying.
Falling pale like me,
And glistening snow resting on my white cotton dress,
Sleeping for now.
Spirits of old,
Dancing to the base of the Cello instrument.
I see them,
Alive and well,
Humming women,
Swirling as their dresses twirl around this dying world.
As the seconds slowly lead to our death.
And I truly believe that the good, the hidden,
Will find the first breath of life
Tucked away in the sky
In God’s perfection,
Heaven.
Where the birds shall sing,
And we dance,
Not a care in the world.
And this pool of worry, sadness, and tears,
Thoughts, wishes, and fears all go away.
They disappear in the darkness
And make their way to hell,
As a punishment to those who have sinned
And let this cruel earth change who they are
To let it fool them into finding greed and lust
To be a must
That’s not life,
Life is full of joy
As every breath we take is written in his book
A beautiful book of just us
And the child’s imagination is pushed to it’s limits
And made into the beautiful dreams that fallow them later in life.
A guidance of a purpose,
A writer with meaning,
To write his or her own books,
To push their dreams into someone else’s eyes to enjoy the happiness they have found.
As others find something else.
An Artist possibly,
Someone who lets the world see the beauty they have seen
By painting a picture
While knowing that they are truly capturing God’s creation
Seeing what no man could ever make by fakes.
And don’t forget the musicians,
The song writers who bring peace in hand,
The singers that send chills down our spines with their echoes of voice.
The dancers who bring entertainment and fun.
Everything that isn’t here now.
For that is only one thing I wish was,
Something to enjoy,
Some happiness,
No more sorrow.
No more pain.
No more silence
Because silence is sought as just a word to many,
But to few,
It is the breath taker
Then depression giver
The screamer
It is full of pain and tears
Always a fear.
I hate it,
But when spoken to a common crowd,
It is commonly known.
But, do they truly know silence?
Silence
Say it in your mind ten times
And think
What is it?
I have believed it to be
A taker of lives,
But also a peaceful rhythm in life,
Something that can give us some time to think.
But the good here, is not seen outside this lost meadow.
