Let's push back the Sun.

Place it right where it belongs, next to the sky.
And then, when you have a day;
You can smile another time and still get past.


Where is that line that divides being too distant and too close; if at all it exists?
And how can they say you've crossed it;
when all they say is in their minds?
When that moment of hesitation strikes, what do you wonder?
Too soon or too late?
If everyone came by on their own intention;
Tell me then, who is fate?

Sometimes my anger is over-rated;
Like a mistaken child's cigarette crate.
Sometimes, it's like the Sun;
And I have to push it back, right where it belongs.

Next to the sky.





P.S- Suddenly random poetry is making its way out of my system, which I am quite neutral to, right now. I feel like I'm the only one who is ever going to read this. I'm beginning to fear that I never really wrote for myself. I wrote because people liked it. And now that they don't, ah that's a story for another time yeah? Wow. I'm such a hypocrite. I don't even have a story.