Tag Archives: Love

The Miseducation of the misunderstood

The Miseducation of the misunderstood

Harbors overwhelming anxiety

Which creates layers underneath the shell

Always home like tortoise, but

I am a nomad in my own body.

The feeling of loneliness sets in every time one of my personalities decide to leave.

I am wandering

Invested in a venture that is company to misery.

I declare communicative bankruptcy.

Do me the service of sending all my messages

This misinterpreted status will be one for the books.

Face it —

Who are we without the royalties in freedom of speech?

Too many unwritten rights you have, that wasn’t taught to me.

Do you know me?

Do I know you?

How valuable is identity to a thief?

The only benefit in this hijacking

Is the doubt that you will actually understand that…

I volunteered, but I never asked.

Never raised my hand in class.

So many questions that still need an answer

So many answers that should be questions.

What will be the solution?

It seems I’m the problem.

I am a weapon – non lethal

A dangerous mind shooting stars

Trynna reach the moon, cause I was told that’s as far as love can go.

I am a victim of time!

Trapped behind the bars in the same cage the bird sung.

Those melodies still linger.

The ink blots begin to show.

I think it’s bleeding through!

I use to dream in cursive until…

Murder she wrote.

Now it’s killing me softly.

The standard is to understand

The extreme is to overstep.

The Miseducation of the misunderstood can’t be taught only felt.

-Leighrick

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A Natural Disaster

Should I have assumed this was quicksand?

I’ve always been intrigued by the gentleness of the beach.

Upon my arrival, the land was dry

My tears reached the surface and my breaths shortened.

I looked down…I am drowning,

Treading through thoughts of my own anxiety.

This could be considered a natural disaster.

Trying to hold on…just hold on….

Just save me but sacrifice yourself.

-Leighrick

Tomorrow Morrows, Today’s Present

I love you like tomorrow

Longing for you to come around, but unsure its worth it

There’s this lingering mystery, but really everyday turns out to be the same.

I want you to keep me up at night, because you can’t wait to see me.

I love you like tomorrow, tho there are times you treat me like yesterday.

I see a future with you, but

I’m so worried you won’t stay…

-Leighrick

Sore Wings

We’re all flawed beautiful creatures
hiding behind the truth, lying in the sadness
Reality.
Child – children
Wanting to belong, to be held
To remember the feeling of love.
To remember if that feeling was love.
What is love?
Who am I?
What makes us we?
Mistakes get tangled – intuition
Can learning be taught?
How can we learn how to teach?
How to reach others; while holding ourselves —
Steady

Ready for nothing.
Longing for a future
Past today, anxious about tomorrows
The sky is falling, and
My hands are full of
wishes that keep escaping on shooting stars

Nothing even matters…

I am listening with my eyes;
while my ears search for the melody
that has been on repeat.
Identical to a heart beat thats played music many years
Uncountable.
Except by the scars,
Accepting the flaws–
Pulling up roots as I soar
My wings are sore, yet still I rise.
I Fly!
On the ocean-floor, over-seas
Through the stratus clouds,
Thus being
Gliding in the no-thing-ness

Honey, Be

-Leighrick

Broken Pedestals

Don’t lose sight of the light.
I close both my eyes, but
Leave the third one open-wide.
Absorbing and Transforming,
Life is a canvas already been painted on; which color will you use to highlight the accents?
How many ways can I contrast the madness?
We are often too busy adding structure to the broken pedestals that once seated those you placed highly.
Deceived if depth can’t be seen without views of the horizon.
Still can’t hear me yelling – only seeing me naked.
This one really speaks to me…
Eye can’t teach them to listen.
Splatter paint like emotion wherever I go.
The world is my canvas. I create in the shadows.
Wash that mask, under that mask, beneath the skin.
Peel the flesh back like old pages.
This book is blank just like the canvas.
Invisible ink disguised as experience.
Squeeze the color out my veins, and witness the light ooze through pores.
Decorating the pews they are glued to.
Stained with the truth not illustrated on the glass.
Looking out the window is living in the past.
Breaking that window is living.
I’m breaking my silence how trees uproot sidewalks.
I belong in the street.
Driving myself crazy, playing hide-n-go-seek with self-identity.
Don’t be lazy.
Chasing my tears to the waterfall of my dreams.
Flowing…
Now I’m glowing..
I stay woke.

-Leighrick

The Last Train, Until…

Picture ya life on the subway –
Labeled a runaway.
Always taught to chase dreams, but catching them was never imagined.
On the train til infinity, where every malfunction exceeds a boundary.
The sky ain’t the limit, its the ticket.
What’s the difference?
I can see beyond the colors of the prism.
I have touched many moons.
Floating – weightless –
Patient.
Healing myself, still doctoring the wounds from when they severed the ties to my portal.
The only home I’ve known, now it just seems as if love don’t live here no more…
So I roam.
Telling the streets my secrets.
Leaving tattoos when I spit the words penetrate the skin.
The concrete cracks.
A Rose emerges.
The train door closes before I even look back…
I pricked myself on the thorns, I wail as the horn sounds…I realize
My overstanding reality is under attack.
-Vigilant Leighrick

Broken Open

Still in a room,
A broken mirror reflects flawless smiles of all those that once stared before it.
Gleaming eyes looking for themselves in fragments of light.
I can’t yet see through.

Walking…
My tears and the street lights create stained glass.
Looking at memories abandoned in pictures, and the pain that is sheltered, buried, and concealed in temples.

Implicitly.

Shattered and now broken open.

I pick up the pieces with the roughest edges first.
I cut myself — countless times.

It hurts not to scream!
As a child you are taught that silence is comforting,
Explicitly a fools gold, a dastardly violence.

The blood has been contaminated with secrecy.
Life’s own mystery;
What good is the knowledge of hystori if the truth never gets told?

Exposed.
Undressing wounds
I see myself in rare form….beautiful….
Vulnerable.

This bigger picture envisioned is actually a puzzle;
we are each others pieces.
There are no borders, filters, nor frames….
Regardless not everyone fits, still you are..

Limitless…

-Leighrick

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