Maybe the one talked over and hushed
Grew up to be quiet, reserved
Trying to develop a voice of their own
But it was never heard

Maybe the one seeking attention
Spent their life being ignored
Experiences shape perceptions
And perceptions shape our world

But this is where we start, not end
After all, we're not cement
We change and bend and learn and grow
We can end above and start below
Beliefs can change and so can we
What we were, we don't have to be

she wore her sadness like a cape,
                                                           ­ her audacity like a veil.

she knew that in his eyes,
                                                           ­ she'd never be his grail.

so she spun her crown of misery
                                                          ­  and disassembled her throne,

and went in search of herself
                                                         ­   for her new heart is her home.

and to this day she's never looked behind;
                                                         ­   he is simply a part of her past.

because now she knows when things are wrong,
                                                          ­  they are never built to last.

my days are too long,
my mind and heart are tired.
any will or hope to keep pushing
has long since expired.

the only positive
to this pain
is that it gives power
to pathetic poetry

s.s

i was willing to give you
every piece of my heart
every morning
continuously surrendering my soul
at the soles of your feet
so simply imagine
what i will be able to do
for the one willing to stay.

s.s