Poetry: A Tale of Two Selves

I am a perfect page holding some words.
Sometimes I am the night on a bright day.
I could be in the sky and fly like birds

On some days, I’m black and white afterwards
then at noon, silence becomes my pathway.
I am a perfect page holding some words

Love and hate occupy my heart two-thirds
with colors red and black to be my way.
I could be in the sky and fly like birds

When the moon walks with me, I go backwards
And when the sun does not shine, I still play.
I am a perfect page holding some words.

I become the dark during some blizzards
for I do not melt with rain, I am clay
I could be in the sky and fly like birds

Even during the night of the shepherds,
I am the grass born in the month of May.
I am a perfect page holding some words,
I could be in the sky and fly like birds.

Ruddapoet
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One, a piece divided in two pieces
One down to earth, the other up the sky
Two in a piece, both can’t tell what peace is.

For long this trouble last through ages
A part bore smiles, the other best knew cry.
One, a piece divided in two pieces

Their souls bounded together by braces
Held like pelvic and the bone of the thigh
Two in a piece, both can’t tell what peace is.

With earth and skin they cover their bruises
Yet their river of blood never runs dry
One, a piece divided in two pieces

Same roots, stemmed into different branches
Growing, just so their fruits may multiply
Two in a piece, both can’t tell what peace is.

For to one rogue they become hostages
Of themselves. And on one wing they will fly.
One, a piece divided in two pieces
Two in a piece, both can’t tell what peace is.

Emny Circuit
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But how does one live the life of two worlds?
Is love truly the lost of its own lust?
Questions to which I wish answers unfurls

Lord, I am a man whose dual nature whirls
Swerving around a line not to be crossed
but how does one live the life of two worlds?

Watching the one, sane, whilst the other swirls
Regardless of what its actions cost
Questions to which I wish answers unfurls

What varies a swirl from whirl? Perhaps twirls?
The semblance of these selves truly exhausts
but how does one live the life of two worlds?

Is there balance in a life of two worlds?
How can they say love is the lost of lust?
Questions to which I wish answers unfurls.

Tis to all this musings my conscience hurls
Concrete rhetorics that points to the cross
but how does one live the life of two worlds?
Questions to which I wish answers unfurls

Snizel.