Flowers bloom in Vivid bouquets of color. They turn and follow the Sun with precise Direction. As morning comes they open reaching out for Golden rays of Summer light. Then a good Breeze comes along and they blow out the ghastly essence. Pollen bombs my senses and I am thrown into a congestion hell. Trees put on green leaves and Sprout young blossoms, I'm dusted with a ******* and forced to endure great pain. Oh that my suffering could end and I could see winter again.

The world seems to be black and white. Things appear to be wrong and right. If all we had was reason, then there would be no need for a changing of the seasons. To mince words and stir some confusion, to paint an expressionist portrait and challenge reality with an illusion. This is the cause of poets and Painters, the task of writers and philosophers. If no one ever ask what if, then there would be no imagination. Life would be straightforward, and there would be no skewed lines. Yet because we have people who like to question, life will be shaded and there will be offset colors. Not everything will be clearly defined and we will have need of philosophers, poets, writers and Painters to fill in the blank spaces around the edges and to give us something to look at other than a clean blank slate.

A written word displayed on a page with Integrity or profanity. A way to speak to one's fellow person, displaying thoughts and ideas for all to see. What poison can the quill deliver or what medicine to restore the soul with truth? The written word has its context, it brings Joy it elicits hatred it makes us have compassion. Words can start wars or they can make peace. Things written down can Inspire and create or tear down and Destroy overnight. Heroes are made and villains are created all by simple words. How they are penned by the quill will determine their intent. In forms of eloquent oration or simple alliteration, words can move people in One Direction or another. So we must never underestimate, nor should we negate the responsibility in the power that the quill has with the written word.

Oh hey diddly diddly The Merry Song refrains. Echoing through the Tall Oaks where once merry-men did abound. Now Ivy Vines dangle over branches it has creeped up from the ground. Foot paths that were worn in the weathering Heights of Mighty trees have been covered over by Spring foliage and Blossoms that gives sweet perfume or perhaps there is another reason that Footprints can't be seen. Mayhaps a lighter step has come to the wooded Dale that dips quietly Through The Meadows and brakes not a blade of grass. The poor whisper of a phantom the dances in the Morning Mist. A Keen Eye and a sure Arrow quietly abound. Lo there comes yon rich Merchant having bags Laden with gain. The Spoils of his trade, when he already has too much. The twang of a single string like unto a minstrels mandolin, then the sound of coins upon the ground. Away runs the steed of the weathly and tonight the poor will eat. Light afoot comes the archer and her band of merry maidens to sweep away their prize. Then off is a golden haired archer who now bears her father's name. Let it be known to all of Sherwood that Robin hood strikes again.

A single voice spoke a truth. A solitary life started in his youth. Setting an example for all to see, he chose 12 students in Galilee. About a life they wrote many books. Lessons to live by and words that can save. So we must ask ourselves what can one person do. We can teach our children what is wrong and what is right. We can celebrate the solitary life. We can show kindness to strangers and live with mercy and love. It doesn't matter if you believe in a God above. Though some of the lessons he taught were said to be divine, he said you can't go wrong when you're being kind. So whether or not you believe that Christ is God Son, there are so many things that can be done. As one person you can change many lives. That's what a man named Jesus did Once Upon a Time.

Jasmine fills the air as rough cobble stones freeze bare feet. Giggles become contagious like some mysterious spell cast over a gaggle of girls. Ivy covers walls and Spanish moss hangs from trees. Mystery and history blend as the air is thick with the morning mist. Dew wets the earth and makes your hair frizzy and stand on end. The sound of distant music twangs from a park bench as someone tunes a banjo. Life moves in two directions as time seems to stand still then jump backwards. Old cemeteries mark the landscape between million dollar homes. The accent of the local flavors mix it all together like a brisk Mint Julep. A distant whistle blast from a ship that should be in the past as it sails on a river where children dip cane poles in the water hoping to catch a catfish. A portrait is painted of life in a vibrant yet unchanging Louisiana town.

There is a storm and the whiteout conditions blind the news. Arms raised in solidarity they march on. Into a frenzy they whip themselves. Ignoring life with youthful exuberance, the puppets dance for their political Masters. Thinking that they're accomplishing something, they jump into the water as Lemmings often do. One after another they are immersed in a place too deep to swim. Then all of a sudden the narrative has changed and their benefactors decide to go somewhere else. Now the youthful invigorated movement is falling apart and another year has passed. In the new cycle a week is an eternity and getting older can be a death curse. Now they must face the reality that they are no longer in school and there's no direction for their leaders have left them. So they fly all about grasping at air in hopes of grabbing hold of something with meaning. Then in Dyer depression they sink down into the Quagmire of life and slowly drip into adulthood as they face the cruelty and reality of the world.

How could he do this, wasn't I enough she screams at the mirror as she is cutting up his stuff. The scissors are just the beginning as she snips and cuts. Soon he will know that he can't pay enough. She logs on to his computer and goes to his Facebook page. She makes public all of his post and photos to anyone who wants to see, with the exception of the ones that feature her you see. She opens up his email and cancels all of his credit cards. She says I am feeling better, but that's just a good start. She up loads some photos from when he said he was sick, she sends them to his boss and mother they are of his vacation in Cancun highlighted with a caption feeling better soon. Feeling like she's done all she can do at home, she packs up off her clothes and his emergency money and then she is gone. She moves in with one of her girlfriends and then she takes her out,they buy brand new outfits and get all decked out. Manicures and pedicures a new pair of shoes will be just fine. They're both going out partying on his dime. At a club where things are pumping and then music blares real loud she finds a new muscular boyfriend and the two of them wow the crowd. With photos and a YouTube video all of this may seem insane but Then she sends him a link to her social postings, he'll see she knows how to play the Revenge game.

On the first, the world was forever changed. On the first day, God exalted his name. On the first day all things were made new. On the first day of salvation, eternal life was offered to me and you. On the first day the stone was rolled away. On the first day Christ rose from the grave.

Baseball games have been replaced with a smart phone. Arguments are not settled with a dare but with a 9mm at school. The government is going to take care of it. So the father is not needed in the home. All we see on t.v. is the thing that is imitated in the streets and rebroadcast on the 6 pm news. Likes and hits have replaced true friends. The grownups have crawled into a pill bottle and let someone else deal with their problems. A child must be given everything but the one thing they need. Then when our baby goes off of the deep end, we try to blame society. The politicians say it is the objects that did this, the kid is not at fault. Let's give them a pill and it will solve everything. So the cycle repeats itself generation upon generation. Our children have lost their identity and are not sure who they are. Finally we sit down and look at a photo and do a hash tag for what we have lost. When the answer is simple enough, all we need is a mirror to answer the question where have are children gone?

No grave stones were erected. No names were given out. The war has ravaged millions and there has never been a shot heard. One by one the victims are slaughtered and the mothers do not always grieve. Some simply say I am glad it is over and walk away relieved. Yet there is a record of all who were not begotten. In Gods kingdom they are written down, the souls of the abort children that God has not forgotten. Each one he truly knows by name. They sit about his throne waiting for that faithful day, when the one who did not want them and the one who took their life will stand before the father and give account for the decisions made.  No one can say how they will stand when the unknown souls are finally named.

After three days of sorrow, the clouds rolled away. The new day had come and the air was quiet and still. Then the earth was shattered by  a violent quake as all of creation stood in witness. The door to hell was opened and death was cast away. It was a new morning for salvation when Christ rose from the grave.

I came into being as my soul fell down from heaven. I looked forward to seeing you but now that will not be. I was waiting in the womb the day that you decided that you could not have me. Though it broke your heart, you did it anyway. You felt that you would be better off because that's what you heard other people say. So they took you in a room and you lay there quietly you could not hear the Silent Scream as they slowly cut me away. You could not hear my heart stop beating or hear my spirit pray. Now you are free of me, it was simply a few Cuts and a snip. Then they took me out and it was like I never lived. You left without thinking and they gave you something to **** the pain. A good strong drink and a couple pills and the memory of me went away. You should not worry though because what you did was not my end. My soul is with Jesus now, and one day I will see you again. When you come to heaven I've just got one thing to ask you see? I just want to know, why you aborted me?

Who will remember me and what will they say about me? Will my family think kindly of me, or will they even care? Will any who I might have helped even think of me? Will those who I may have wronged come and forgive me? I know not how I shall fall, for as a mortal man I struggle each day. So I ask myself this poignant question, who will remember me?

I took a pen and put it to paper. Then I looked at the blank page. I tried to will myself to write, but I did not have the words to say. Then in long deep thought, the pen began to move in my hand. All of the things that I had been feeling, that I had buried for so long. They lay scrawled out on the paper, every line was filled. I set my pen aside and let go of all my pain. I then signed the letter between the tear stains. It's simply said my apology and I addressed it to you oh God in hopes that you will understand.

What if there were no god to whom would we pray? Where would you go when trouble comes to call? Would many people even miss god at all? Perhaps little by little this is happening anyway. Perhaps there is no God because we are driving him away.

On Bended Knees with tearful eyes in a quiet lonely place, a broken soul soundly pleads asking for heaven's Grace. The wounding is deep and the pain will not go away. The world does not understand ,or does it even care. Yet when the silent prayer reaches heaven, it is a thundering echo there. Before the throne of God Satan trembels in fear as the gates of hell are rattled buy simple silent prayer.

Sheets of paper lay on a desk and a pen lays beside them. Letters that needed to be written, that now never will. Weeds grow in a garden, but they will not be pulled up. Dust has collected on a window seal, but it will not be wiped off. Many a mundane thing shall be left undone. Time has become short and what seemed important no longer is. In a worn-out pair of shoes, I have Journeys that I must make. I'm not sure that I will finish them, I do not know how much time it will take. Instead of sitting idly in a rocking chair, I now must hurry up. The sun will soon be setting, and I'm not sure that's time enough. To reconcile certain things, to mend fences and quell strife. The things for which I thought there was enough time, now may just be part of an unfinished Life.

We all breathe the same air. We all live under the same Sun. We are all of One race, the human race. We all eat we all sleep, and we all hope and dream. So what sets us apart, what causes us to be divided? Why does one person think they're entitled to more than another? Why do some have too much and some not enough? Why can't we set aside our differences, and realize we are the same. We all have needs and they must be met. We all want to be safe, but that hasn't happened yet. If we could simply speak one language, the language of caring for one another, then every stranger would be your sister and every stranger a brother. Until that day does come, we should continue to live apart. Divided yet coexisting, on the same planet we all call home.

Pierced and nailed to a tree, the most precious blood that there will ever be ran down to earth. Many looked and ask why this must be, but the blood must flow you see. Upon the alter was placed a perfect lamb, without spot or blemish was the son of man. When the sacrifice was made sin knew it had to go. The powers of hell were shaken salvation was given. So though it may seem like an awful fate for salvations sake, let the blood of the lamb flow.

On a cold and bleak morning the crowed gathered to Jeer. They did not want the innocent but the guilty to be set free. Though not long ago, they had wondered at his miracles, for now this is how it must be. Set free the murderer and hang the innocent on a tree. Beaten wounded and battered, he gave up his life for you and me. Then hanging on a rugged cross, the innocent carpenter built one last thing. He took the rough boards and 3 nails of the cross and made a bridge between God and man.

The sun shines on the grass and trees. The flowers bloom and the birds sing. Yet all I can do is be somber and weep for there is no joy for me. While others are relishing in the warmth of a Mid Summers day, I am nursing a broken heart and cannot find much joy. I weep morning noon and night, my soul torn to shreds by you. So while you are off enjoying a tropical paradise, I will be here weeping the tears of summer because you left me so empty and alone.

The lights flicker in a now dimly lit room. The echoes of music resonate from with in the walls. Table cloths stained with memories lay on forgotten tables. The door is closed and the silence closes in. The good times are now all but over and the reality of life comes crashing in. There were never really any true friends on acquaintances that came and then went. When there is nothing in life left to celebrate, you are left alone with your own thoughts. When all of the guest are gone, you must now sit and weigh the cost.

In an ugly vase that shouldn't be in my living room. There used to be a bouquet of flowers that would brighten up the room. The Petunias or Daffodils would conflict with the vase, but when she entered the room, it always made her smile . She bought the ugly thing at a quaint little second hand store. Down in the little village where we liked to walk and explore. She was an adventurous soul, but I was to selfish and  afraid. I was to concerned with the worldly things and did not see the treasure I had. Now that she is gone, I just sit here sad. With the four walls of my mansion surrounded by my gold. Oh how I wish I could have those flowers back and the love she put into our little home.

The sun beats down on the back of your neck, the road steams in front of you. You drink water trying to get relief, but it just steams off of you. It is so hot that you cannot even sweat, under a burning summer sun. If you think this is hot, won't hell be a lot of fun.

Leaves fall from trees and lie on the cold ground. Poets and Kings are laid in tombs. The Earth brings forth new things and the old things wither away. The Earth Embraces all that came from it. In everything there is a season. No thing has in mortality, even the Earth itself is torn and Reborn. If not for all things having an end, then there would be no new beginnings. It is in this that we hope Beyond ourselves and the Mortal life that we live.

Pain and suffering abound in a world filled with strife. Children go hungry and disease ravages whole countries. All seems hopeless and lost, and yet we are told that we should,praise God? Why should we praise him and who is this God that will let people suffer so? Perhaps it is because we have tried everything but calling on him, that when all else has failed us that now more than ever we need to give our praises to God.

People flee from Venezuela and poison gas is used to make new political alliances in Syria. Were the old dictators so bad? The world has become an unbridled mess, this I must confess. I really can't stand to watch the news anymore. There is little positive news, I think we should just sing the Blues. Then perhaps we would all feel better about ourselves. One group wants to help billionaires and the other says they care as they open up our borders and loot your bank account. Was it those on the left or the ones on the right, I think it changes over night. Now who the hell cares anyway. I am not sure how much longer I may be around, as much as I try to keep my feet on the ground, the Earth keeps shifting beneath my feet. So I will keep trying to turn my smile into a frown, for I have no more words to expound except to ask why the world is upside down?

Bouquets of colors abound as the little pills that I swallowed down take hold of my keyboard. The words flow like an ebbing tide, they drift far and wide. My imagination flows like a river as I see the pretty colors of the ever expanding rainbow. My emotions are cleared away as I write about a rainy day or speak of a Unicorn that I just met. Who knew it could be this exciting when I let the pills do the writing instead of the dreary person who used to be me.

In the Bible the stories are told in the New Testament and the old. How God gave many gifts, but especially to women did he give. For tempting her husband God gave woman sorrow in a childbirth that holds our tomorrows. In her physical Frailty God gave woman cunning and skill. These gifts have come to serve her well. While  men are boisterous, a woman will quietly wait and thoughtfully contemplate with wisdom what she has to say. Though many men profess to be a breadwinner, it's the woman who Kneads the dough and prepares the dinner. When it comes to the man touting his male heir it's the woman that rocked the Cradle and raised the son with care. So the next time you read God's book, be sure you take a closer look. Perhaps then you will see it clear, God put a lot of gifts to women in there.

A broken heart and cross stained with tears. Worn out sandals covered in dust. A day when Gods heart burst. The ultimate gift of love, a perfect sacrifice sent from above. Christ was Gods valentine to all of us. When the messiah cried it is done, we revived greatest gift, his only begotten son.

If I could pull together all of the moments of my life. I would pick out the best ones and put them together. I would see how I fell in love with my wife and watch children grow and love. I would celebrate birthdays every day and walk only into the good times. There would be no sorrow, only joy. If I could live a dream this is how it would be.

She was going from table to table passing out beers in a bar. I was feeling lost and empty with not much else to lose. She walked over to where I was in a short skirt and high heel shoes. She had on glittery makeup and lipstick as red as blood. She asked what my poison was and I said something strong. She swayed back over to me well the glass full a snake bite, as I tasted it I asked her name. She pointed to the tattoo on her neck and I knew I would never be the same. Sim is what it said

I have traveled a long and dreary path. Soon it will be time for me to part ways. The sun is getting ever lower on the horizon, but the end to this journey is now crystal clear. For good or ill, I have done the best that I could. Now this weary Mariner will take one last journey. Into the Setting Sun as the last Light of Day fades, from my labors and toil I will soon take a rest. How long I will stay at peace, I do not know. For now I will be content, and wait to see what comes next. for the current path that I walk, upon it these are my last days.

Taps is played on a singular Trumpet as 21 guns sound. A gleaming White stone is set solemnly in the ground. The wind blows through flags that sit high atop silver poles. All is quiet now, as the mourners file away. Flowers adorn the graves of loved ones that have gone away. A lone sentry stands guard over those who are at rest. Their duty done, they gave their all, each life like a precious Rose that shed it's bud in undue season. The blossom of their lives was stricken down to pay freedoms cost you see. Now they lie in silence awaiting another call. All of the brave ones who sacrificed, the precious flowers that lay where the Roses fall.

Fine Strokes go on a blank page. The narrow brush Lay's in bits of color. The delicate hand responds to the artist eye. The Canvas absorbs the colors, as one by one they are removed from the pallet. With each stroke and fine line you can hear the whisper out of the brush as it laughs. Across the canvas it glides, bringing out fine points and inserting curvatures and lines. The canvas burst with laughter as a portrait comes to life. What was a blank page, is now a wash with vibrant color. The image speaks of laughter and Mirth as it leaps off the canvas with the final brush Strokes The Artist makes laughter and joy for all the world to see.

Somehow the lines were funnier last night. This morning the words do not make any sense. There are War drums pounding in my head, so I must revise my script. Instead of Science Fiction, I now think I'll write a western. Perhaps I'll scrap the whole thing and start over when I can see again, double vision makes it hard to type and I would likely **** myself if I tried to use a pen. So I will drink a third cup of coffee and wait to get rid of this hangover. Then perhaps my words will finally make sense when I can again write sober.

Caring should not take a resolution. Giving of yourself should not be a guilty pledge, it should be the way we live. We should not wait one hour to help out our fellow human, we should do it now. It should not take a new year for each of us to see how we can help someone out.

The embodiment of what was written, my life shall be every page. The word of our God that was given, all of man kind to save. Made flesh and walking among us, he passed on the light to you and I. It is for each of us to live as close as we can to the life of Christ.

A young girl stared in the window, her breath fogged up the glass. There stood a fancy ensemble. Her heart almost burst watching it on display! She wanted to wear it for the holidays, but she had little money to spend. So she went away with a great longing, and a dream in her heart. She paid a visit to her grandmother and talked about her Winter's dream, oh how good a Christmas dress would look upon me. Listening intently beneath agent silver hair, she reached and took the child by the hand with the greatest care. She brought her into a room filled with Dusty sunlight. She showed her bolts of tapestry, red green and white. She said that you can buy many things, but those you won't enjoy the best. So she set her down at a sewing machine, and said let's make that Christmas dress. With the long pieces of green fabric, and sharpen scissors in hand. The aged woman guided the young girl directing her small gentle hands. With each snip and cut the green fabric took shape. Into the form of a dress that the two of them would make. Remove from the table and laid across a form pins were inserted and the dress was adorned. Wood trim with white lace in red ribbons here in there. Sequins and sparkles gave it a Christmas Flair. Then off of The Forum and to a sewing machine, with careful stitching the two created a dream. When it was all done and the dress fit just right, the young girl danced about in joyous Delight! Through all of the holidays she sparkled and gleamed ,with her Christmas dress she was a beautiful dream. Yet her greatest joy wasn't what she had to wear, but the memories she made and the time she had shared. So though you can buy fancy things oh, you can count yourself blessed if someone shares with you how to make a Christmas dress.

Your skin is pure as the snow covering a mountain valley. Your eyes shine like two stars in the heavens. Your hair flows like the Lilies of the Field in the Wind. Each foot step you take is as gentle as a hummingbird's wings. You are far more than human your soul must be divine. So how shall I a mere mortal love you? When it is so obvious that the host of Heaven would gladly call you their own, and yet you have cast your gaze on an imperfect creatures such as I.

I drive by the same street each and every day. On the corner there stands a man as happy as he can be. His clothes are torn and ragged and it looks like he could use a good meal. Yet he always smiles and waves Yet he always smiles and waves, every time that I go by. I pulled over to the side one day when I saw him drinking from a paper bag. I rolled down my window and said that must be some really good stuff. He just laughed and smiled and said once it was never enough. He reached in the bag and pulled out a bottle of water you see. He then smiled a little more as he walked closer to me. He said I used to be a wino and I didn't give a care. I would drink almost anything and I will sleep just about anywhere. But then one day I met a beggar and he told me about a man he meant by the sea. He said from that minute forward, he was forever changed just like me. So I asked him if you don't drink then why are you on the street? He said I want to share my happiness with everyone I meet. That beggar was once a wino and was lost just like me but he showed me the way to Jesus and I no longer have to drink you see. In a moment of stunned silence, I just found the strength to smile I drove away confused but only for a little while. I pull over to the side of the road again and my tears begin to flow because I knew that wino had a peace that I had never known. I surrendered my heart to Jesus right then in there. I then one on my way where I had lost all my cares. One day I heard that wino, had quietly passed away. So so now I'm taking his place as I go along my way. I'm not standing on a street corner in ragged and torn up close, but I share what he shared with me everywhere I go.

I sit here shaking, I cannot believe what I am seeing. How did these photos of me end up everywhere. The emails are cruel and the chat post are awful. My stomach is turning just thinking about them. I thought he loved me and now I am a running joke. Someone posted a photo album on a **** shaming site. I did not say it was all right but I remember very little about what happened. I got drowsy and the rest is kind of a blur. I remember his hands going where I did not want them to go. I remember him kissing me and saying that we wanted this. What happened after that is kind of a hazy mess, but I do remember that over and over again, I told him NO!

One Christmas eve I knelt silently in prayer. I gave thanks for the things that I had and let my needs be known. Then in silent contemplation I ask God what shall I give you for Christmas. In a long still silence the heavens waited then the sound of a small still voice spoke to me. Love your fellow man, I know it is hard but I know you can if you try. Give to others and seek nothing in return. Listen and seldom speak, learn what other people need. Go out of your way to be kind, even if it is the furthest thing on your mind. Do not take more than you need, even if it seems right to you. Care for the world I gave you and it will do great things for you. I was filled with confusion and sadness because of the conviction that I now had. I then asked God if there was anything else, and he said the most important gift is to first love yourself. He told me that once I knew what I was worth, then I would do the other things and we truly could have peace on earth. With that final word I got up off of my knees and went out to try to live up to the things God told me. To make Gods Christmas gift the best that I could be.

A Rose sits high on her breast and a snake slithers up her thigh! She has a heart tattooed on her arm and an evil smile on her lips. In the small of her back the dark wings can take you on a trip. A vine swirls around her ankle with the names of those she holds dear. She has forever yours tattooed just below her ear. She walks casually by and gives you a longing stare. Her wrist has the words Devil May Care. She has long blood Red nails and on her fingers she has love and hate. She loves to make your girlfriend jealous, she is the woman they will love to hate. Across her slender stomach she has no inhibitions tattooed colorful and clear. She has wanton sinner tattooed on her inner thigh. If you see what is next then it is obvious you are her kind of guy. So if you want to get lost in lust, just let her catch your eye. You will follow the map of ink to sinful pleasure and she will rock your world. Be wary of the danger of the tattooed girl.

Oh Christmas flea oh Christmas flea, why did you bite upon me. Oh Christmas flea oh Christmas flea, where did you come from? Did you sneak in upon my tree, perhaps you hid on me? Oh Christmas flea oh Christmas flea, please stop biting upon me. Oh you are a painful bug, perhaps you hid in my designer rug? Oh Christmas flea Oh Christmas flea, please don't bite upon me. Now because of you I think that I have the flu, I hope that you get it to. Oh Christmas flea oh Christmas flea, I think I will have to fumigate thee.

Oh Lord I look at the land but I yet long for the sea. Please let thy hand guide my journey and let thy favor be upon me. Give me clear eyesight and strong and steady hands. Be patient with me as I labor and seek to know your master plan. Let the wind take me upon my journey and return me safe again, that I may gently hold loved ones and embrace dear friends. If it should be thy judgement that my Earthly home I will see no more, let not thy servants body wash up on the shore. Take me gently into the arms and embrace me in the Deep. Let me there abide until you call me from my sleep. Know that I have done my best whatever be my fate. Unto thee I give all glory and on thee then I will patiently wait, amen

Dawn breaks on the horizon, the stormy night has passed. The dark blue Waters are dimly lit and the Shadows are fading fast. The fierce winds have died down and the white froth of the Raging main is calmed. Seagulls cry in the cool morning air as they Venture from land heralding Mariners home. Dark have been the tidings of late an unfavorable has the weather been, long Journeys and separation has found us but now that show all come to an end. For the wind blows warm at our back and the tide gently rolls in. As the sun fully brakes on a brand new morning I no there will soon be good fortune for the tides are turning again.

The floor is littered with broken dreams. The curtains are drawn to keep out the sunlight. A half empty whiskey bottle sits beside the bed. I haven't been out in a week. Life is nothing but a whole lot of clutter. I hear people outside but I just can't seem to join them. My heart is empty of emotions, they have been spilled all over the house. My sheets and pillows are stained with tears, I just wallow in the pity that they bring to my mind. I am not sure where to begin to clean up. When love is lost and your heart is shattered, you are just left trapped in the refuse that a broken relationship leaves behind.