I wish

You ask why you’ve been wronged,

You ask why I have done this,

You even go as far as to ask, “Why are you acting like this?”

The reasons a soul goes sour are plentiful,

My answers lay deep within my being,

Something not even a heathen could scour dusty dark caverns to find.

I wish I could tell you

I wish I could tell you that I’ve been through things that changed me,

Things that make emotions feel as if its a competition.

Who feels the worse that day? Who has gone through the most?

It doesn’t feel worth it to compete.

I wish the game of life could be played with open ears.

Instead, the players take the turn to gain for themselves and are forced to wait for the agenda of the others to run its course.

Some even team up against a common enemy,

The hooting and hollering after the games been won is deafening,

The one that loses out cannot be heard for the winners always prevail.

I wish you could have heard me

I screamed on the mountaintops for my feelings to be heard by you, even if it was to others, the disparity was prevalent.

But you heard the distant calling of another; mine wasn’t loud enough,

You took it to heart too, but that’s my fault.

I waited too long to be heard by you.

The bridge we had built piece by piece, month by month was torn; but when?

I just wish I knew when the pitch of my pleads reached that of a deafening note.

I wish to know how the thoughts swirl in your head when you ponder on us; does it hurt?

They say if you lie awake at night thinking about a love that it’s mutual between the two,

While I know I have some place in your mind, is there truly still a place for me in your heart?

I hope there is.

I hope that it’s just confusing.

I hope that this clock can be fixed and that just a few parts have gone out of commission

I won’t push to replace these parts, maybe the clock is too old and cannot be repaired.

Reminiscing on when the clock would chime is exhausting,

A simple melody sounded like a symphony and electrified every sense in my body.

The tick every second alone was enough to feel as if I could fly,

I felt above all men, that I finally reached nirvana without the release of death.

Resisting the urge to fix it and hear that chime is nearly impossible

Life’s colors seem to fade after this loss                        

It’s minuscule to the ones who see

“The clock doesn’t work, just throw it away.”

That ideology is superior, for not even I cannot come to a reason to discount it

But my feelings tell me otherwise, that no matter what I need that chime.

Like a working man who needs his alarm, I won’t rid of this ringing with purpose but with time.

One day, I wish.

I wish things will be okay.