"Usually the thing I find the hardest to do, is usually the thing I'm supposed to do!"

‪Lying on a bed of daisies ‬
‪With summers good intent ‬
‪Butterflies and ladybugs dancing on our heads‬
‪Eyes are shut, as we lay in peace‬
‪Listening for the sounds‬
‪Like birds that sing, and flap their wings‬
‪Way up high above the ground ‬
Sun is bright and filled with warmth
As it shines down on this place
Rays of sunlight bounced around
Puts a smile on our face
Vibrant colors here and there
As far as eyes can see
Crisp and clean, and so serine
Brings out the best in me

......

How do broad shoulders
bare the weight of what
     we carry to the grave,
and how do we gauge
    the weight of
    what never was?

They say we simply
need to share
to speak,
but I know not one man
that can shine a torch
on his own demon,
let alone name It.

So They start to circle
as bones no longer
Creak but Crack
and broad shoulders start
learn the pain of growing older
and like demons
make for
fine friends.

If
the eyes are the window
through which we can look
into the soul,
Then let words serve
as a souls outstretched arms
and when we look in let us see
that in yours are a shield,
and mine a sword,

Then let you block and bash
as I swing and slash
that not one more man may fall
and broad shoulders need bare
nothing at all.