A Path Paved by Neediness

It was a welcomed mess

A necessary byproduct of the insistence of seeking beauty

Tired hands stained with paint

Color the picture with no worries

Finding comfort in its morphed depiction

Willing to bear the pain of its creation

A path paved by neediness is doomed to fail

But I walked down that road

And smiled when I saw the flowers of hope

that adorned the side of the road

Sprung from the seed of fantasy

I stopped, and still, I smiled when I lowered myself to the dirt

I smiled when I breathed and inhaled the perfume of potential

A fragrance so strong it lingers on your skin

So strong it lingers on your skin, in your mind, on your lips

Preventing you from smelling the fresh air of reality

 

Potential is funny like that

My belief in and love of possibilities is dangerous like that

 

Dangerous in the sense that it is a slow death

The absence of fresh air

It is a tragic death

The resentment of reality

Self-made intolerance, oh so subtle, you won’t notice until it’s far too late

And you bear the pain of your own making

The pain of self-made intolerance

The scar of what could have been

 

Tired hearts stained with time eat dangerous lies like that

Feast on fantasy

Gobble them up until it thinks it’s full

Swallow them whole until there are no more holes to fill

 

But the truth is tired hearts can’t get full off of lies

 

It was a welcomed mess

Until all it was, was just a mess

And the paint that stained tired hands

No longer looked so pretty