To Help

The need to release
without stirring the police.
The need to wait
without falling behind the bait.
The need to wake
when all you want to do is sleep.
It's all so fake.
No one is ever that deep.
Or is it true
that someone can look straight through.
So far through they can see the truth
like some super sleuth.
Is it possible for someone like that to be alive
and in a world full of hell thrive?
Is it me that I speak of?
Is all I need to do is love?
Care for the rest
and bear a crest
that says who I am.
A title that everyone knows.
Every sir and maim
that leave emotional blows
to show me what they feel
and to slowly, but surely, reveal
what is wrong that they know
so I can go,
leave to help, to help, to help those who
for all their own love they share with just a few.
The true, the loved, the innocent.
The few, the many, in that incident,
those who helped and those who needed it.
I am there to live for them, with them, be them.
And instead of taking a whole lot of shit
save them, help them. I need to help them.

Summer's End

Summer's end has come and passed
and looking now back at my past
I notice all that I regret
and stuff I've managed to forget.
Things that I've seen go by so fast
that when you take a moment to think
you break free of your cast
and rise to see the brink,
the extent to which you can see.
Then you realize what you could be
hasn't been what you were,
but you never know for sure
whether changing the past would make things better
or whether it would make them worse.
The past always writes a letter
like an unstoppable curse,
that tells you what you did.
How much would you bid
to change your life to what it could be
than rather let it run free.
Go with the flow,
straighten out your bow,
and be thankful for the life you own,
the life through which you have grown.
And if you wish it to change, then write a letter
and promise yourself to make things better
anyway you can
to prevent it from hitting the fan.