Awakening

Like a scratchy old record,
I'm conflicted; between playing sweet music
and letting the white noise control the volume.
Playing on loop - round & round in my head.

I amount to the white noise somedays.
One of the watchers. I interpret people.
And although they appear to listen -
they don't near hear me.

I've encompassed this
and I've tolerated this.
This behaviour as normal across my entire life.
That is far too long a time.

Who looks outside dreams, who looks inside awakens.
I had always blamed my weird little heart -
for being too complex for them.
Before I tried to understand, I reflected.

People don't know that about me.
Maybe they don't really want to.
Maybe they don't have the patience,
maybe I should shout a little louder.

Think if I beat my heart like a base drum they'll notice?
And what if they don't?
What if they can't?
Whose standards do I live by?

I broke my heart & it healed back different.
Though many surround me, few can support me.
Maybe it's because even close up - I feel distant.
Maybe they don't truly know me.

Let out a little more honesty, they get taken aback.
For a second long enough for me to see.
None of us are Stevie Wonder,
but though everyone looks & they rarely see.

When I love, I love too much;
And when I hurt, I hurt too much.
Maybe that's just me.
Maybe I'll never be enough.

So, is it for me to repress forevermore?
Or is it for them to learn?
Cause my heart beats like lightning.
Or, didn't you know?

That something either lights me up, or leaves me aching for days.
That I'm most me when my hair is wet, I'm standing here scribbling;
allowing a whispering draft whisp round me.
To keep me grounded.

Conditioning. That's the word.
Life conditions us but by whose standards?
Lower those expectations.
Dream big; but you know, not too big.

Live your life to it's fullest; but you know, play it safe.
Man, even hope looks different.
What about the living?
What do we do about that then?

Continue to clutch at the good days?
Barely save, but just clutch at those good days.
Tell me how to be so creative in such a reality.
Blow through the haze?

To quote George -
"People are always blaming their circumstances for what they are"
To paraphrase George;
with an Empress twist -

I don't believe in fucking circumstance.
Those people, the dreamers.
The rare souls.
The poets, the writers.

Artists in business,
Our service minds.
The tech wizards;
a game of goddamn thrones.

Those people who get on in this world;
are those who get up & look for the circumstances they want.
Those who aren't just themselves when their alone.
And if they can't find them? They make them.

Motherfucking stars, boy.
I'm pretty sure I want to be on their team.
Believe me, will you?
This isn't everything you are.