Dust to dust and mold to mold,
We take the tasteless by the armful.
With greedy hands that grasp,
we take the shapeless mass.
Just the dust and just the mold.

Dust to dust and mold to mold,
Just loved by arms that enfold.
A warm embrace,
from a lovely face.
Eventually to dust and then to mold.

Dust to dust and mold to mold,
We shrink before we grow bold.
Grow strong in time,
just to diminish in size.
Just to dust and just to mold.

Dust to dust and mold to mold,
A lovely day for life on the world.
On a bountiful globe,
We develop and grow.
Just to turn to dust, and then to mold.

Dust to dust and mold to mold,
We heal as just as we return to our home.
Lie down in our bed,
As we begin mend.
Just to dust and just to mold.

We like to think we know what we would do
Faced with any given situation,
Though unless it's something we have been through,
It is nothing but pure speculation.
Which is why advice must be qualified,
The person free to take it or leave it.
It is up to the person to decide,
To do whatever it is they see fit.
For it would be wrong for us to suppose
That what we advise is the only way.
Should they not take the action we propose
We need to be there for them anyway.
  Whatever they decide we should respect;
  Of our own friends it's what we would expect.

Don't be a prisoner to mental slavery. Society wants us to be mediocre. Go to school, study, pass the test, those are all beliefs we are told since we can remember but are they really what you believe in? The window of life is so small that we must seize opportunities when they come. We need to get busy living before we are no longer able to. It happens way too often in society today that people are wearing clothing they don't like and doing jobs they don't want to be doing. You don't have to be a square piece that fits perfectly in the puzzle society lays out for everyone. Become a lion, don't let anyone or anything stop you from becoming what you want to become. So what's holding you back? Take control of your life.

You make me bleed,
If only I learnt
how to paint you with it,
This would be worth it.

You make my heart ache,
If only I could turn this into art,
I would find a way
to keep you safe

Without endangering
my fragile beats.

You make me love you,
If only I could turn you into poetry,
And have people appreciate my love,
And not object,
I would.



But I can't.


So now my pen lays there,
The paper waits to be caressed,
The words remain lost in the echoes inside my head
Pleading you to come back.

But no amount of words I write
Will be louder than this worldly hate,
5+5 makes 10 so does 2+8

So why do they have to wrong us
To prove they are correct

I guess only a broken soul can hear
The sound a breaking heart makes,
You heard mine, for that I'm glad,
But you are gone now

The words now fall,
Only to get rusted and forgotten,

You made me hear
The silent lullaby the night sky sang to its lover earth
But now without you here,
It grows quieter every night.


Please, somewhere at some point
meet me again