I'm having trouble with
The voices in my head
While I speak simple english
They speak fluent french
So I never really know
Just what is being said
Which makes it hard to understand
The voices in my head

I'm never really sure
Exactly what to say
Did I arrive here early
Or am I much to late
Either way I hate to make
The voices sit and wait
While I pull out my French-English Dictionary
And flip through every page

So now every Tuesday
Since this Tuesday last
I have been preparing
By taking a French class
So I'll be at the ready
To give an answer back
In case the voices in my head
Continue speaking French

I do not love you as if you were salt-rose, or topaz,
or the arrow of carnations the fire shoots off.
I love you as certain dark things are to be loved,
in secret, between the shadow and the soul.

I love you as the plant that never blooms
but carries in itself the light of hidden flowers;
thanks to your love a certain solid fragrance,
risen from the earth, lives darkly in my body.

I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where.
I love you straightforwardly, without complexities or pride;
so I love you because I know no other way

than this: where I does not exist, nor you,
so close that your hand on my chest is my hand,
so close that your eyes close as I fall asleep.

I believe in the ever after
I believe in the here and now
I believe that you and I
Will make it through somehow

I believe what I do
And what I do not see
But mostly what I believe
Is what I believe

I believe there is good
In the heart of man
But I believe in an instant
We can let the evil in

I believe if we aren't careful
All this will come undone
And if we don't let love dry long enough
It will begin to run

I believe there's an answer
If you look hard enough
Which one you come up with
Is a matter of the heart

I believe if yours is beating
To the rhythm that love makes
There's not a thing that you won't do
To give that love away

I believe in the power
That a hug can hold
And I believe you can achieve anything
If negativity is let go

I believe there's a ring
That holds a special key
And once you open that door up
Then you too will believe

Where is that little girl of innocence
The one that grabbed the reigns
and learned to dance
That laughed out loud
every chanced she had
Where is that little girl of innocence

Where is that little girl who used to pray
For the less fortunate
in hopes they would be saved
From the heavy hand of sorrow
that too often gives itself away
Where is that little girl who used to pray

Where is that little girl who used to smile
Has her world grown weary
with every passing mile
You can speculate all you want
yet still wonder after awhile
Where is that little girl who used to smile

Where is that little girl who used to dream
Did she find out what life's about
and woke up with a scream
Where reality so it seems
justifies all the means
Where is that little girl who used to dream

Where is that little girl I used to know
Did she lose her innocence
along the dirt road
I pray the day I see
her smile once again shown
As I dream of the little girl I used to know

Who ever said
That life was all fun
I'm sure never lived
Around anyone

If you live long enough
Around anyone
Sooner or later
They'll disappoint

From acquaintances
To the closest of friends
Even yourself
If truth be said

There's not a time
That you won't find
Someone let's you down
Somewhere in life

If they drop the ball
Then it's your call
If you forgive and forget
Then move along

Because whoever said
That life is all fun
I'm sure never lived
Around anyone

People like you and me have grown used to dancing along,
To the raggedy tune of someone else's song.
We are able to dance, and smile, and duck, and roll, and weave,
While still clinging tightly to the things that we believe.
Sometimes we are led to believe we will lose it all; our heart, our soul, our very name,
Afraid they'll take away the us-ness of us; but still we play their game.

I wonder how many others know how to fake their hand?
Who keep the love caged up inside, to appear "normal" and bland?
Perhaps it is just us, perhaps just you, or, again, perhaps just me,
Or perhaps each individual just sees what they want to see.

Perhaps.

Perhaps...

Or perhaps, but...

I had a vision once; all the bad thoughts in the world were mine;
I ****** them in from everyone else, so that all the world felt fine,
And while all other folk were safe at rest, I cried and cried and cried,
And toddled down some empty street, slumped down a wall, and died,
Taking with me all the evil thoughts- the hate, the pain, the strife;
I believe it was the happiest I'd felt in all my life.

I tell you that to tell you this; all people's pain is pain to me,
And I would gladly give you happiness, in exchange for misery.
Don't keep those thoughts locked up inside, and hoard them for your own,
Or both you and I will surely die depressed- afraid- alone.