Do spoons ever get sick from being
stuffed into food filled mouths?

Do they like being nearly drowned
day after day?

Do they think of the dishwasher
a water park ride?

Do spoons have their own
mouths to open wide?

How do we know, how can we tell?
Our lives lie in the hands of greater giants
These hands are hard as worn leather
And decide when the time is right to end
when it is they let you fall from the floor to the sky

currently you sit side by side by side
upon a great golden scale of hard brass cords
with the lives coiled around glinting with life
and when your heart becomes too heavy
your side tips low to rise you up from this world, away

the people of this earth are in fact the stars themselves
glowing and sparking yet ready to explode any moment
we can’t stop it from happening and we can’t avoid it
because in the end you collide but your never forgotten
your dust of life and ashes rain and sprinkle all around,
body mind and soul, forever.

Holding so much power in such a tiny vessel,
often this is such a dangerous thing.
Many of us should not be trusted
with this much responsibility.
We each are molded with two.
One to hold and cherish in our palm.
The other to crush with the tightening of a death grip.
Some of us use both as menacing claws
scratching away at all that is good and pure.
They wear them down to only rough calluses
and waste their lives as they cut right to the bone.
Yet others mold lives with their live and tender care,
for these are beings of creation.

Why can’t you just see
That when I tease
It’s just me
Trying to say
What I mean to say to you

I hate you, it’s a joke
The other words get
Stuck like smoke
In the back of my throat
It’s never what I mean to say to you

The hearts I drew
Around your name
Just simple grew
As I kept the secret
Of what I wanted to say to you

I waited too long
It was stupid but,
I guess you moved on
So I never said
What I mean to say to you.