Don't send me home crying
Tears in my eyes, wet face
Feeling lost on the long drive back
I would rather leave angry
With half moons dug into my palms
A plan forms to pull it all back together
I can handle rage

Music, a double edge sword.
It aggravates gaping wounds;
It mends optimistic spirits.

A magic that can ascend one to
A higher plane of existence,
Or a boulder that can send one hurling
To the bottom of Dante's inferno.

A cupid that gives repose to distressed spirits,
Or a scythe that leaves a furrow in the heart of a cynical soul.

They say time heals, I say music aligns the stars,
Fuels the flare, unclouds the gloom of the skies;
Brings spirits closer to enlightenment.

I chose to embrace her, drop the deadweight,
And unlock the shackles of my heart.

I don't say "hopefully" anymore because that implies that I have hope.

I have a whole list of things to do;
Not just for myself, but for others too.
Life is short and yet I do not care;
This is my honest truth laid bare.
Underachieving is a trait of mine;
A recurring statement, an obvious sign?
So far I'm surviving,
Not thriving.
Why won't I just do it?