Not Quite Sure What This Is

Got a bit inspired by the weekend. Experimenting with some gritty poetry Charlie Sheen style, hold onto your hats folks and get ready to click your fingers to the groovy beat of the soul. (So dry)

Cool daddio.

Journey
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And so it came to pass, time continued on. There was no stopping it; there was no holding it. You cannot keep something you cannot see yet we capture it still in our hearts and pray it does not taint. Time, the immovable force of change; the bane of quiescence violently uprooting memories and planting hope, false or otherwise, that tomorrow may be better, brighter and here sooner than the hurt we escape today.

Then through rapid succession of fate, faith and fragile abandon, we find ourselves outside of the hole we dug and somewhere unfamiliar. Hopelessly lost in our naive expeditions we move forward and challenge our dreams with reality. And so with great fortitude we do not falter, we do not surrender; tomorrow we say will be better, brighter and sooner. We escape the hurt.

Just as good memories can become as taint, so too can hurt become as growth. The scars teach us, the pain guides us and we find our way; in time.

Sometimes I can't believe it; I'm moving past the feeling.

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That's it. I don't know what constitutes good or bad poetry, but by jove this was jolly sincere, so sue me.

OH and credit for the last line goes to Arcade Fire's The Suburbs, it's more or less the tl:dr of the entire thing and they might take the whole sue me thing literally..

Thanks for reading.