Oh sweet melancholy hill..
Almost pushed over the edge,
But held on by love,
And change of mind.
The ability to persuade ones own thoughts
is such a gift you see.
It enables one to keep things locked
Deep inside to keep the peace.
I'll hold it back to keep you safe,
For you're already close to breaking,
Your body never ceases shaking.
Why might I add to such a disaster?
You see I'll hold back things for your own good,
Because it's the love that reminds me I should.
I don't need to put two cents in,
Even if mother says to let it go,
She says it's best for me and how dare she hurt me like this.
She says what audacity she has to forget the true reasons of the past and have such selfish tendencies.
But I know this love has lasted forever,
And I'm not going to be the one to end it,
As I still believe it has no end, my thoughts have started changing.
It's making me feel funny,
Like I don't have a choice in my emotions,
And they can blare out whatever they want when they feel like it, no matter who is staring.
These actions she's making are slowly breaking me, I feel lost and tainted.
Confused and frustrated.
Why oh why, what did I do? Am I not enough to get you through?
I realize now as the truth comes out I am not, and I've failed.
Failed to be there.
Failed to show I care.
Failed in every possible way I could have,  
But to make you laugh when the time is needed.
And provide medicine to wash the pain away,
But only for a brief moment of life...
Until it all comes back again, but worse without it.
Hopeless is close to the word I'm looking for.
But selfish is what I'm called instead...
Selfish sel-fish šëłfįśh
I do not understand,
But if my past closest says it too,
Well **** it must be true...
Or are all of them scared,
Scared of the guilt and tears?
Even my past closest must be scared too, along with the rest of them.
She's going through hell and I'm not there
for she doesn't realize what she's done in the act
and the pain and flashbacks she's put upon my shoulders and mind in the process of focusing on oneself...

I still write to you, you know.
•Every second journal entry
is a letter I wish you’d read.


But my letters are written to ghosts,
who cannot touch
these pages I plant my seeds.


Your hands
no longer trace
the veins of my ink stain leaves. 


And you never cry
with me
to water my dreams

I am not the way I used to be
I am stronger and wiser as you can see;
Remember my words, my father said
As he cradled me up and laid me to bed;
You will someday be a lady with a life of your own
With someone to love you as I have shown;
I will always be here to lend a hand
To help you and guide you when you don't understand;
Somehow I believed his words I'd see
He was not the father he promised to be;
Instead he was a man that did not care
My siblings were my father because he was never there;
I often cry myself to sleep
My fathers love was not mine to keep;
I miss my father I won't lie
Not a single hug or one last goodbye;
He is now a man free to roam
Not worrying of his family or coming home;
He walked out of my life and never turned my way
Oh why daddy why didn't you stay?

I was told you love me
I guess I heard wrong
I lay here in the Darkness
All alone
No one else
Just me
Thinking
Dreaming
Wishing
You were still here
To comfort me at times like this
Times of Darkness
I need you here to hold me when I cry
To tell me it's ok
To give me hope for the future
But it's too late
You're gone
You could've been there but you weren't
Your were off doing your own thing
I lay here waiting for you to come back
But you never do
Day by day it gets worse
Tear drenched eyes
Shattered heart
You may love us
But do you care what happens to us
If you did you wouldn't have left us this way
I still lay here waiting
Waiting for one thing only
Waiting for my dad to be a Dad

Skipping from one mistake to the next,
Nimble and quick, as if mistakes are the best
And these feet cannot find any other footing
Putting the best foot first in the wrong direction,
Constantly making the connection between
Intention and the opposite of nourishing,
Suffocated instead of purely flourishing,
A navigating lesson is necessary for survival
Or perhaps a session meditating on a true revival

Do you think the birds
get scared when they start
to fly a little too high?
Do you ever think they feel
they are going to fall
as the wind pushes through
them and they lose their path?
Do you ever feel like a soaring
bird, flying in the air,
when you feel like you have
control, but similarly you have none?
Do you get scared when
you lose sight of your direction?
Are you like a bird,
flying a little too high?
Are you soaring through life
with little to no direction?
Are you a bird?
Am I?