IN TRYING
In trying to be,
I became.
And with a
little more effort,
I could have
done better.
Than the
mistakes which hurdle my path.
In trying to
find love,
I found deceit.
A lover skilled
in the mask of kindness.
Waiting until vanity
dreams were shown.
And his colour
the mold reveal,
I wish that I
was taught how to love like a man,
So that all the
broken hearts I would mend.
In trying to be
better,
I met myself,
Raw, uncaged,
destructive man
Filled with
callous lust, fueled by delusions.
Judging my
growth by the standard of jokers.
Leader of
murderers the hate in my heart,
The colour of
everything I despise,
Till I found out
everything I hated was me.
In trying to be
a believer,
I failed the
truth.
By always trying
to understand its way through my faulty eyes.
Dangerous
perception, designed to augment savage,
Reckless
ideology, bending reality
Words suited to
mask incompetence.
But futility
reprimands cowardice,
There is but one
standard of truth.
In trying to
live,
I saw the line
of death.
Cold as
darkness, glancing over our strife,
Whilst in dying,
living became bigger.
But while
living, death was vigor.
Spur of ambition,
The enemy of
wealth.
Till crippled by
living men fueled their suicidal threat.
Every man lives
on the brink of life and death,
The suicide
comes with the strength of the voices in your head.
In trying to be,
We sometimes
become.
What darkness
and light decide in our heart.
Summer of
kindness, winter of desire,
Fall of envy and
spring of revenge,
Different sounds
of the same voice.
Each beckoning
the weight of our soul,
Till peril
sometimes sleeps in silence,
And we awake to
see that we can always try.
And in trying to
be,
We may become.
What are you
trying to be?
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