Risky choices. Death the punishment

Deserving, not doing, wondrous things

Wonder does not deserve punishment

The dead choose risks.

Untitled. Blank. Unknown.
We don’t label things we don’t care about.
We shrug it off, for it doesn’t matter. 
Doesn’t it? For off, it shrugs us about.
Caring, not doing, we’re things labeled.
Don’t we?
Unknown, Blank, Untitled.

It isn’t fire, it isn’t storm,
No sharp, dramatic break.
Just static where it once was warm,
A dull and silent ache.
Your ghost is just a sigh,
A blank spot of the room,
No tears to offer, no more why,
Just gray, quiet doom.
Love was a loud and frantic song,
But this is better, so I say:
The peace of knowing you are gone,
And feeling nothing every day.
Everything, nothing, feelings.
And gone are you.
Knowledge of peace, 
That said, I’m so better
Is this but singing frantically?
And “loud” was a lovely doom.
Quiet, gray, justified.
Why? 
Moreover, no offerings,
To tears, no room.
That of spotless, blankness.
A sigh, a justification is ghost yours.
Aching silently and dully.
A warmth was once.
It’s where static just broke.
Dramatic, sharp nothings.
Storms: isn’t it
Fire: isn’t it. 

People have feelings
Passion, anticipation, happiness
We all have emotions.
They define us.
Truly owned by who?
The feeler.
But is it?
No.
It is but the feeler who’s owned by true emotions.
We’re defined.
They have all our happiness.
Anticipating passionately.
Feelings have people.

Push yourself. 
Feeling tired?
Continue; you will get there.
Almost there.
Only success comes to those for trying
For awards will come.
I promise.
I come willingly.
Awards for trying, for those to come.
Success only there.
Almost there.
Go, will yourself.
Continue, tired.
Feel yourself push.

You see them above, rising more.
You envy.
Then they show flaws, flawlessly exploited by you.
Elated, you now rise.
Now you.
Elated you, by exploitation flawlessly.
Flaws shown.
They then envy your aboveness more.
Rise, they see you.