I thought about what I knew was true, that the more I read the more I could do. But it’s not as easy as seeing red from blue, I realized that I couldn’t do it too. What I called sin, I thought less. What I thought of my sin, the thought grew more. Outwardly, I saw nothing but me. Afraid to see what I was truly to be, a kind person does not say that you’re right. But gently, they tell you what is right. I forced it upon others, what I chose was right. I became what I never wanted to be seen right. My way of truth came from me, from actual Truth. I pushed my thoughts on peace, never settling for my own that time. If I could ever see you, I must remain the lowest of forgiveness. To serve and not be served. I can’t say sorry for what I’ve done, I am ashamed — not yet enough in prayer, and in action. I became what I trusted the least, I saw and smelt but never partook in the feast. I left hungry than I ever was, I took what many saw as knowledge. My self righteousness felt crumbling down as I realized what I’ve done. It tore you, and it tore through my eyes too. A speck nor a log blinded me, but my own eyes themselves. I cannot continue myself like this, genuinely making too many reasons why I’m right makes me wrong. a Chaste heart is humble before it confesses, dimming in sound but beating in spirit. I sincerely look upon you, I ask to see your eyes once more. If I could fall upon my knees and apologize, my face wouldn’t see yours. If I wanted to see your eyes once more, I must confess that I cannot see. That I may be forgiven — that I might not. I am but a sinful man in your eyes, with sorrow in my heart. He who brought me to Love, I made it to be different. Your hand I wished to hold, the time I wish I could wait. The prayers I thought I prayed truthfully. I may not see it again, but you may see this and remind you of what I can do. My mind is controlled — but I say unto you, whatever my life brought you, let it be away from me and more for you. That what I hurt, comes to me instead. That you manage to give me up. Maybe not soon, but probably later. If I saw your message again, I wouldn’t be the one to see it. My heavy heart may have died alongside me, my prejudice choked the life out of my name. Send me your farewells, but I hope it won’t. Show me nothing, but say something. Truly, in truth — I’m sorry.
Maybe one day,
you’ll see this once again.
Thinking how I wished I tried less,
and became more.
You’re almost there, life is catching up. It has been fair to you, maybe not for me. But maybe it has, I just haven’t seen it. Blind is the man who sees only around him — not himself. If I can’t come to many, then I cannot be what I truly am. To be yours is to understand what I have to do too. I wonder if you still use this, maybe not. Maybe less than before — poetry stuck to me, not so much to you. I knew that, and it was true. But what I say will be clear, no twist, no words, just now — right here. Talk to me, I’ll surely reply. But my eyes once again may never see yours. My hands may never write again, but I am a sinner, that sins for himself. Selfish, but human. To be His is to know everyone, as they are and will be. What path one chooses does not define death, but life itself. My shame covers up my mouth, I can barely speak up to my existence. But you grant nothing but goodness and rest, truly I miss it too.
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I took on the things you like,
maybe not that great but it’s yours.
This doesn’t excuse me though,
what I did made me so-so.
I still remember what you wanna be, but what I thought I could be too — with you, maybe not but maybe so. Truly what I wanted it to go. New songs, plays I may not see. Acting out in front, I may never be. Hopefully, I may ask forgiveness. But I may be long past that, I still have that. It’s night time right now, you should get some rest. Maybe not but maybe so. My tears, I couldn’t hold — my selfishness I clung the most. Ignorance to who I am made me what I never wanted me to be. To be yours, not to be mine. I learned my lesson — too cliche to say, but it honestly is what I want to convey. A chance? Maybe not but maybe so, to you this piece is all I know. Read me well, for I am blind. see me well, for I can’t understand. Know me all, as you always have. Others in life, hopelessness in my pursuit. I ask forgiveness to Him, and also to you. Others that I may have gravely accused wrong. I was wrong as I lived my way of truth. The courtesy to ignore this is okay, I hope you could read this. Maybe not but maybe so — please be well, take care of yourself. Late night rests take a toll, The night is the same as always. I can see for a while, and I realize too little. I am a sinner who bore hatred among him — a sinner that knows his sin, who realized it with you. Who forgot what made me what I am, and you who knew what I am. Who loves who I am, I hope I can talk. Despite these arms that deserve less than rocks.
A little bit too me,
knowing it is for you.
I accept what I deserve, the lowest of the low. What cannot be reversed can also be rewinded — in my thoughts, I wish it were nothing but our joke. Talk to me, please? Maybe not but maybe so. Despite how I lived my way of truth.
