words are written;
I open the pen's cap.
Can this be loved,
or does it pass by uncaring eyes,
leaving others untouched?
Yesterdays grabs at my today,
and attempts to blind my tomorrow,
but there is one yesterday
that barely ever appears―
a painful yesterday I need to learn and grow from―
that was the beginning of my journey.
Sadly, there are now pillows all over it,
so now while I can remember it,
I can't feel it,
and I don't know if the angels
would show it to me again.
I'd like that yesterday,
that gave me great pain―and meaning
Piano plays a beautiful song
while I search everywhere trying to find the words
Walking down a path alone,
where I gave my most serenity filled smile ever,
and the pure of nature must have smiled back at me.
I see an open field in my backyard;
in my mind and to my brother,
I call it the Garden of Eden.
It's just so weird how I was in love with
everyday I got to spend outside;
Even with the oh so many mountains
I have to climb, it made me happy,
but who's not happy
walking through a tunnel of trees.
Truth be told
I always imagine myself
on the other side,
when in actuality,
I don't think I've even taken the first step.
I wait for and try to create the day where
strength comes out of me
as if bleeding.
Is it possible miracles aren't a one time thing,
I know to be breathing is a miracle
in and of itself, but what about
doing more than breathing;
how about a dream coming true,
or even two dreams coming true
right next to each others?
A miracle I wish for
is to "be" then "stay" strong,
and escape this yo-yo effect
so deeply in my life,
but not a wish on a star or birthday candle.
Someone once told me to always have hope,
that doesn't mean never crying your eyes out,
it means hope will give you a tissue.