Last Saturday, April 09, 2011, was my first ever game at Rugby. I had no Idea what was coming my way. It all started quite normally. Woke up at around 10 AM and had my routine self-care activities. Then came lunch, which then meant a cup of brown rice and some tuna. A bit of the internet addiction made me go online for a bit, then I had to take a shower.
Tuesday, April 12, 2011
Saturday, April 9, 2011
Thursday, April 7, 2011
I need people in my life who'll actually stay.
No bullshit. No drama. Just straight up real.
Someone who'll go on adventures and experience new things with me.
Someone who is willing to go through ups and downs and never leave when things get worse.
Someone who'll actually take their time and effort to be part of my life.
I like these kinds of people.
Or maybe, I just need to be with my dog more.
Who will cry for the little boy?
Who will cry for the little boy,
lost and all alone?
Who will cry for the little boy,
abandoned without his own?
Who will cry for the little boy?
He cried himself to sleep.
Who will cry for the little boy?
He never had for keeps.
Who will cry for the little boy?
He walked the burning sand.
Who will cry for the little boy?
The boy inside the man.
Who will cry for the little boy?
He knows well hurt and pain.
Who will cry for the little boy?
He died and died again.
Who will cry for the little boy?
A good boy he tried to be.
Who will cry for the little boy,
who cries inside of me?
-Antwone Fisher
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
This Poem
There was once a boy
with darker skin
Circles round his eyes
much like his kin
Hair is all messed up
Handwriting's a blur
And a bit paranoid
when something will stir
He may look okay
He may look fine
But all the ruckus of the world
Is happening in his mind
He is confused of who he is
Unaware of his purpose
Feeling so insecure
His mind in a tempest
He feels as if he has
a lot of love to share
But when the giving starts
rejections fly though the air
This has been his life
for almost a decade
He has gotten used to it so much
he is up for an accolade
No one seems to be hurting
No one seems to be in pain
For if they knew what it was
They'd understand the strain
Person after person
who comes in his life
Always leaves not soon after
Leaving sadness and strife
All he that is with him
aside from the depression
Are the scars on his arm
and the seemingly silent oppression
Now alone in the house
with no one wanting to talk to him
Sits this sad little boy
pouring his heart on this poem
Monday, April 4, 2011
Rule for a Better Way to Live # 3
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