I'm a sweet piece of art…observed and admired from behind a painted veil
Encased with glass that shields me from the world…
I'm a boy…not yet arrested…by the trappings of girls…
Innocent in my thoughts…pure in my trust
Like a flower
Growing in a garden of cement
Beautiful in the backdrop of discontent that transcends from someone else's defense
Wickedly humble in the treatment of water stains and blooming angels
Living in blind spots
Unafraid of the danger of being …
Being treated like a rose
Covered in thorns –
This path is my journey
And my journey seems long
Long overdue
For the transformation that ensues
When the glass shatters
And the painting becomes the ember
That sparks the transfer
Everything matters
Everything shatters
The falsehoods of boyhood
The mishaps of chance
The silly chatter that becomes the banter that echoes louder and louder
Until silence becomes noise and noise becomes comforting
The madness comes to light
And the light becomes a beacon
Emanating from the truth
And then the realization…
This is not new…
It's simply truth
and the journey ends exactly where it began…
with a sweet piece of art…observed from afar
with filled frames trapping the remains
of understanding
the painted veil…the encased glass…
the masks…
memories of haunted pasts
hanging on walls begging for someone to ask
how, or why, or when
did it become safe to be a victim?
Like a flower, starving for water
Withering in the fiery sun
I have become
Many shades of gray
With a radiant passion
So I make a choice that fits my voice
And the transformation ends
No longer trapped in a frame
No longer do I remain
Ashamed…afraid...I am changed…
The innocent boy is no longer in the dark
He has repainted his canvas and reframed his sweet piece of art
So that the picture reflects the man I have become
and the man I have become follows his heart…
© 2008 Jason Rivera
Encased with glass that shields me from the world…
I'm a boy…not yet arrested…by the trappings of girls…
Innocent in my thoughts…pure in my trust
Like a flower
Growing in a garden of cement
Beautiful in the backdrop of discontent that transcends from someone else's defense
Wickedly humble in the treatment of water stains and blooming angels
Living in blind spots
Unafraid of the danger of being …
Being treated like a rose
Covered in thorns –
This path is my journey
And my journey seems long
Long overdue
For the transformation that ensues
When the glass shatters
And the painting becomes the ember
That sparks the transfer
Everything matters
Everything shatters
The falsehoods of boyhood
The mishaps of chance
The silly chatter that becomes the banter that echoes louder and louder
Until silence becomes noise and noise becomes comforting
The madness comes to light
And the light becomes a beacon
Emanating from the truth
And then the realization…
This is not new…
It's simply truth
and the journey ends exactly where it began…
with a sweet piece of art…observed from afar
with filled frames trapping the remains
of understanding
the painted veil…the encased glass…
the masks…
memories of haunted pasts
hanging on walls begging for someone to ask
how, or why, or when
did it become safe to be a victim?
Like a flower, starving for water
Withering in the fiery sun
I have become
Many shades of gray
With a radiant passion
So I make a choice that fits my voice
And the transformation ends
No longer trapped in a frame
No longer do I remain
Ashamed…afraid...I am changed…
The innocent boy is no longer in the dark
He has repainted his canvas and reframed his sweet piece of art
So that the picture reflects the man I have become
and the man I have become follows his heart…
© 2008 Jason Rivera
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