We strive for something more,
Peace,
That let’s us feel relief and content
But to feel that relief
There needs to be something..
Unpolished, impossible
In your life
To make the perfect moments;
Perfect

Crack crack, you hear, the lens from which you view the world fell from your ***** hands, onto the cold hard ground.
You move too late. The people walking demand for you to get out of the way. In an instance you drop, the lens out of view. Left to be stepped on by the soles on everyone’s shoes.
Without it your left to fear, a tear falls but no one sees, you surely can’t.
Again you try to grab on, your hands shake, yet you succeed. Once again you put on the blurred lens, this time more blurred and cracked, and you continue to walk until your shaking hands drop it again,
crack crack, you hear.

¶
The broken clock
Shattered on the floor
Smeared with regret
Was fixed when I entered one day
So I can move forward
Slowly
As time heals all wounds
At least that’s what they say
¶

Another day, no feeling under the sun
again, when things are done,

does it matter who was there but didn’t help?
does it matter, those people who kept to themselves?

Maybe not.

Instead I’ll look to those who accepted me, who respected me
Who loved me since the beginning

It is not until this is realized, that it makes sense in our head
that true life begins, and our envy is shed.

Then confidence proudly burns

And feeling returns, the heat from the sun.