I'm Only Living a Lie When I tell my soul I am fine, by S.M. Bjarnson

It wasn't clear to me about how far our livelihood had come.

We are travelers on a path nobody has a map too. 

I listen to the yearnings that pull me to every unmentionable path. 

I am alone.

Watching the waves hitting the bottom pits of the ocean.

They are encircled in time when there has been no time but now.

We are living in a breathless fought over universe only we are the only ones at battle.

With ourselves we are the only ones looking for victory when victory has already given into us, time and time again.

We are poor soldiers waiting to go home, awaiting a decision from the leaders we think execute their plans with us in mind and not from their own ambitious winnings.

We were right weren't we, leading a team of masked teenagers into a battle, no one had ideas of winning.

Our paths stained with generational bloodlines. 

Our maps colored with veins.

The world was a line and there had been for curves created to save those who were not absolute in the eyes of our leaders.

Claims and taughting of voices made it clear we had no voice or reason to commute the exile pathway.

After everything is said and down we evidently find ourselves at the beginning again, with a clearer frame of mind, understanding what roads to neglect and others to partake in the journey of.

Rumors will be true if you let them live on.

The fictitious character we call time can be reset anytime.

I'm only living a lie when I tell my soul I am fine.

-S.M. Bjarnson

What is calling to you...? -S.M. Bjarnson

Stars splashed against the night sky.

 The watercolor wishes brushed gently upon what we thought as our reality. 

Terms and conditions of where they would end up, that they not be lost forever, but maybe a farewell for a short time. 

We have reconciliation with those who have passed. T

hose in line next to us who have the ok to go ahead and explore the unknown universe. 

We are jealous, but why? We will get our chance when the timing is sincere. 

When the envelope opens and our name is printed on it. We will be golden we tell ourselves. Perfect for the job. 

Adventurer in the soul and body, a survivor in the min

d.  We are born and yet we die. We are happy and yet we endure sadness. 

Cherry tips and velvet lips, we are all a part of the board game we play. 

Wouldn’t you agree? If I was but 3 and you art 5, then in time you would presume to be called first in our line. I’m sorry to say only the young croak alone. 

Secret whispers upon the second. 

My name is called and yet I am unready. I have practiced and played my part a bystander if ever relevant and now here I am they are calling my name and I will secure the line. 

We are tormented by the time we have thought up. 

We are heartbroken in the moments we consider a life. Don’t forget the trembling of toes, never let up on the quivering of the tip of your nose. 

We are all consigned one day to be more than a commoner.

 Delved into our perspectives of life and leisure, our entrance into adulthood was nothing other than a welcome mat, worn from usage, tired from belonging. 

Turns out not all heroes are born. Their delivered. As if to say we can choose our path rather than our journey decides for us. I am a child, a woman living amongst the adolescence of man. For all we know we our destined road is that of unfortunate experiences. 

What is calling you?

A piece at a time, -S.M. Bjarnson

My concentration broke and I was at the worst of them. Breathing under strict rule of where and when I was to leave and bleed my words and to whom. My glued eyes shut I reminisce in a once victorious land. I stand alone at the battle field of the mercenaries. I am a king if not a queen to the trap of solitude. I am the heir to a terrible crumbling kingdom. With cruel intent I will seek them out to become more than just a maiden in a chamber. There will be blood as there always is the red stain among the men in history.

Wishful thinking tells us that we are longer good, we are longer able. Who is the judge in the case? The ruler that signifies us disruptive. For a short time we may live out the remaining years will a solemn prayer of being an achievement of the human race, but you see that is the mistake we are all in a race.

Hills and valleys will let us know if our succession is relevant or rather a mistake of guidance on our elders part. We are children being led away with a string or a rope, led to another world where our imagination is held captive and our irrelevant lives became purposeful.

We stood through streams and creeks remembering our fallen brothers. The cold chills turning over the aged rocks, exposing secrets my lovely sisters kept. A dark hidden past was one thing and then another when the light made it glow. Terminal, the position our beloved on us. Our potion was a category for defeat and victory was not on the contents of victory. Sacrifice on the other hand was a very big ingredient in the poison.

Fruit taken from the tempting tree were we all at the devils hands, tug graves and cutting corners. There was music in the air. Swirling the temptations of what had come and what had not. We would not last the night, the morning dew taking the place of our final determination. Trembling words fluctuated around the matters of factual and factious.

Could you remind me of my crime dear sir? Could you so ever gallantly refresh my deprived memory of the crimes you accuse of me committing?

There was a line I had drawn upon the fallen walls of the kingdom we called home. White marks leading up and down and curve to remind us we were never to be left alone in this day in this age, we were prisoners. We were the answer to the most disgusting of questions.

The solutions for a match made in ever. Our turbulence qualified for a ok landing, but there was nothing and we stood for exactly that.

A piece at a time.

-S.M. Bjarnson

Lazy as Goodbye

It was a lazy Sunday, you were going away, again.

The leaves were changing and you thought it would be a good time for leaving.

You call me up, I said what’s going on?

You said, I’m leaving.

Where you going?

Why you leaving…me, again?

I thought I told you, you can’t do this anymore.

If you wanted to be gone, you should have stayed away the first time.

You should have stayed gone.

But, now you’re back, and there isn't no changing that.

I know you’re scared, because you've never been hurt before.

You think leaving will save you from that heart ache.

But, I’m still the one here, you’re only hurting me.

Just give this a chance, a chance to be something more than a day in misery.

Now we may fight, we may curse, but baby were strong enough to get through all that trouble.

Look at me, feel this love.

Don’t be scared of tomorrow’s problems.

Because, today is today and tomorrow may never come.

Let’s live today.

Please just tell me one thing do you love me?

Do you want to be here with me?

Where you going?

Why you leaving me, again?

I thought I told you, you can’t do this again.

If you wanted to be gone, you should have stayed away the first time.

You should have stayed gone.

But, now you’re back, and there isn't no changing that.

You look at me, fear deep in your eyes.

My smile comforts you and brings hope to them.

Don’t worry, I say.

I won’t be leaving anytime soon baby.

You say me either.

I’m staying for good, this time.

 -S.M. Bjarnson

Quote of the Day!

Change is good it helps us remember we are surviving the evolution of mankind.