it's not what you say
but what you choose not to
that stabs at my heart

They don't know how it feels

to awake every morning,
and all they can wonder is
why they had even awoken

They don't know how it feels

to pick up all of their pieces,
and put them back together
but still feel like they're broken

They don't know how it feels

to say all that they can say,
and still feel like there's more
but every word has been spoken

They don't know how it feels

to go to sleep every night,
and the only hope they have
is that their eyes will not open

©

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     *(              |                      •    ||    )
   (   •|               |                )
(          |||     •  |  )
\   |        |   //
\ || •   | //
•       ••     ••
•like clockwork,
  her day would begin
•pressures of life like no
one could imagine•toting the
crushing weight upon her tiny shou-
lders•responsibilities and expectations that
would overwhelm before she falters•she'd ***-
ble as she groans her duress•her skin would crack
to release pent up stress•then there would come a day
•her exhausted veins would rupture and then give way
•she has the most terrible temper•but we would still flock
to her•why?*........when time and again she offers us strife•

simply because she provides,
she gives us life•