for every up there is a down
or so it could be said
but not a high for every low
my life is great but with a void
its completion so elusive
but that's just how life goes
a strong heart breaks easy as it is strong
when cracked sharply enough
but they are strong in their rebirth
be my architect, be my field
build and grow it back
to taste the fruits of Your earth
a great book had been started
a preface and beginning
but we stopped at chapter two
come be my cover, my story
yes, read us to me
pictures each page, of me and you
before the book is closed forever
perhaps one last chance
it won't shut without one last shout
my heart in hand, I return
return it to its confines
but clever, it will find its way outI hate writing poetry because I do it most when I'm upset. I may never anymore understand why some people are "ready" and some are not. I was taught to love, and sometimes I think that is all I
can do...with the opportunity. Life is made of chances. Chances that come and go. I've learned I have more regrets when I don't act, than regretting my actions. Our lives are made by the choices we make. I will choose mine. I WILL CHOOSE MINE. But then again, life is like a fast-food restaurant. You don't always get what you choose.
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depressed
excited
indescribable
sleepy
