Every day, I bring her a flower.
Sometimes, more than one.

And if she asked me, I'd surely bring her
every flower under the Sun.

Every day, she makes me smile
and I always try and do the same.

But it's not hard when it comes to me ...
I need only hear her name.

Every day, I rejoice
just knowing that she is mine.

And every day that this gets older,
it ages just like a wine.

Every day is better than the last.
Every night, impossible to describe.

She is like an addiction I relish in ...
from which I'll forever imbibe.

Every day, I stare at her
just as the sun comes through our window.

Like watching an Angel, asleep beside me,
the greatest joy that I'll ever know.

Every day, feels like a dream.
Sometimes ... I fear I'll wake up.

And if this dream were some potion ...
I'd never set down that cup.

Every day, I love to hold her ...
feeling her breathe while standing by my side.

To have her look up, while in my arms
like being swept away with a tide.

Every day ... the greatest day.
The greatest I've ever known.

Every day ... the greatest love.
The greatest I've ever been shown.

This is not a letter to myself,
Nor to someone I left.
This is for someone filled with regrets,
For those whose pain demanded to be felt;

It was the obscure evening,
The night when you found yourself— empty.
You lost trace of the light's being,
T'was the moment you chose to flee.

You gave everything you must give,
Gave them all their needs—
Yet there's nothing left for you, not a penny,
Not even a single bit of sympathy.

You were lost, tears were crystalized,
Pain made you lose your mind.
There, you made a decision,
You became your own rebellion.

You killed people, hurt 'em with your words,
But never regret, they did the worse.
Chose to choke you while you're breathless;
The people who made your darkness.

It wasn't your fault that you hurt people,
It was them, who killed your own person.

I know why the caged bird sings.

It's not because his song
is as vibrant
as his feathers, that he plucks away
each day because he doesn't
feel beautiful.

It's not because of the majesty
that exist in the freedom
of being able to spread his wings
though he knows
he'll never rise to the occasion.

He sings because he believes
that this cage
was made for a king
because he has never tasted
freedom with a side order of skies.

He's never flown past the sun
on a cool morning
or hung with the moon
on a warm night.

He's only ever known
the comfort of a prison
that his thoughts have
become accustomed
to calling home.

He would never venture
beyond the "welcome" mat
because what's beyond the threshold
holds no promise
the way these bars and metal locks do.

He sings because he knows
that no one is listening
so if he makes a mistake
he doesn't have to live with the regret
or embarrassment of knowing that he missed his note.

The caged bird
never believes that he's caged
because behind these walls
he's safe
and he prefers it this way.

I know why the caged bird sings.

some days suffuse
with dirtied grey
scream through
stain of shrapnel's
gaudy glint

for though each year
may roll on by
like so much dice
cast rashly down
in reckless haste

and tensions build
in East and West
North and South
from Sea to Earth
on worn-out board

we need not fear
for garments tattered
stained and torn
are merely coats
and we are safe

within the folds
of One who cares
in pinions' lift
we can rejoice
remain unbowed

though we dread
a final strike
if breath is taken
on this flight
take heart

for true One knows
does see it all
has limits sure
for what takes place
at curtain call

as mankind's
freed through
hard-paid Gift
a price so steep
his Son bled true

so all who mourn
their stolen days
regale earth's plight
with aching sigh -
might breathe

stand tall with
upturned faces see
time's running out
for Puppeteers
all sordid stench

and soon eternal
peace will come
not just within
but everywhere
relief

take heart