Don't let them dull your shine,
Like a cloud drifting in front of the sun.
Don't let them alter your mind,
For it is a special one.
Don't let them ever change you,
As only you should have that right.
The stars above they shine for you,
because you're their shining light.

You are a magical, exceptional, iridescent, sparkling human bean.
You have an incredible power to sense what others around you are feeling.
You give your all to everything, and are constantly developing.
You are always pushing forward, you are never looking back.
Your love, you share with everyone through; your words, your songs. Your Voice.
It resonates and reverberates truth and honesty with affection.
Your voice is being heard out there it's getting some truly deserved attention.

Don't let them dull your shine,
Like a cloud drifting in front of the sun.
Don't let them alter your mind,
For it is a special one.
Don't let them ever change you,
As only you should have that right.
The stars above they shine for you,
because you're their shining light

Your voice, your smile, your aura, your body, your heart, your mind.
They are all such powerful things you possess,
you should share them with mankind.
You should give your all to who you are and stand up proud and state.

"I'm a magical, exceptional, iridescent
sparkling human bean.
and I'm also ******* great."

So as I approach the all to familiar landscape I used to call my home, I look up to the sky above and, well what do you know...
Its beginning to rain, just a bit of light drizzle overhead.
Yet I know once I step foot off this bus and on to solid ground.
The heavens they will open and the umbrellas will be out.
I shall be soaked from head to foot.
In precipitation and perspiration whilst  running for shelter from the storm.
It's kind of irritating but it also what keeps me warm.
The knowledge that it doesn't change whilst I am away.
This dank and dismal place called Manchester.
Can still brighten up the grey.

Life is one of those questions we would all like to answer
Love is a game that we all like to play.
Play with our hearts and feelings
we do this every single day.
Sometimes through happiness,
sometimes regret,
sometimes things can happen that we'd all like to forget.
Yet we will get on with our lives and rarely ever let,
another player roll our dice
to decide on where we go,
a day to go by without letting someone know.
Know the feelings that are in us, the need to speak the truth.
We merely just get stuck in a game, a game that we get used.
Used to playing,
together or alone.
People state that.
the heart it is a home
A home we welcome visitors to,
Stay.
Linger there forever, or just spend a day.
A memory is a moment that is forged down deep within our heart, it is a single solitary snippet of life with which you cannot part.
Let go of or forget.
It's part of our life.
It's become part of this game.
It's there until game over, it shall always here remain.
Pulled into contention as part of the big question that is;
What's the meaning of life?
as within yourself you question,
what if?
What of this love I felt, how can it now cease, was it destined to be my life, my answer, my secret *** of gold.
The love the stories mention that you shall never get to hold.
Hold in your arms, with their head upon your chest.
Hold upto the skies as they rise above the rest.

Its something to always ponder on, as if that were the case
I thought I understood the question and found my own meaning of life
Yet I'm still part of this race so there's still time to decide.

So maybe there might just be a chance, that it could be true.
Life has more than one meaning.
and maybe for me it wasn't you.

the sound of the wind is a lullaby
sang by each and every blade of grass
their voices so distinctive no noise can they amass.                                        
Except omitting the motion of movement in the wind,
they play a silent lullaby to echo in the dawn of spring.

Living the dream or so it seems
Riding the waves, cascade after cascade
Jumping through hoops,
going round loop de loop,
like a roller-coaster
Believing you've got closer
To what:
you're supposed to do.
what you,
perceive to be
what you,
intend to see.
Knowing that, this is your goal.
The thing that drives your soul.
To reach to the sky,
stretch up to the stars,
float upon the clouds,
make yourself proud.

Because this is your dream.
it's something that means,
everything to you.
there's nothing that you wouldn't do, to reach the heights of success.
Continue to achieve your best.
Push through till there's nothing left.

Because this is a passion, a craft, a choice.
Don't listen to nay sayers,
down players,
people who say:
This isn't the way to go,
this is something you should know.
And it is something you know.
Why wouldn't you.
It's drummed into you day after day,
you get used to the people being that way,
it's a hard business.

Okay, okay
I get what you're trying to say but I don tell you day after day;
That your job is monotonous.
A corporate chain,
whose only aim
is more money to gain,
from your daily pain
of trying to maintain the face of joy
when your boss walks by
and asks how it's going.
With a nod all knowing you reply
"It's going great Mr Johnson."

Yet in your head you weep
And wish to retreat, back to the age when you could openly phrase a strong affirming gesture.
A finger raised to the sky,
Stating ******* and goodbye.

But you don't.
You nod and say "yes"
Cause that is your best
There's no passion inside you.
No craft that will drive you, to achieve.
So stop for a minute and believe
Believe in the strength of desire in your heart
let me take my path, leave me alone and then start on your own.

I need a job.
To start living, start earning some money, am begging.
Begging you like Madcon
The cv handout goes on, and on.
Like a record that's skipped,
beginning to feel like I've been tricked.

It's not like I wouldn't work hard
I'm willing to work hard for my pay,
willing to work everyday,
willing to earn my way.
I ain't fed on greed,
I only need what I need,
only one mouth to feed.
I'll even work on my knees
scrub till my fingers bleed

I'm like a seed sprouting, roots up routing,  with stem as long as my sadness has resided.
Pent up emotion continuing to grow.
As the roots begin to take hold below.

Take hold of my tongue and its words, my heart and its love, and my lungs and its breath.
Got Nothing left; to push through to the surface beginning to feel its all worthless
What's the point here?!
I'm stumped.

"I JUST NEED A JOB YOU... Chumps"

Feel like I should take a jump.
Not a jump of suicidal intention, just a jump for attention
Attention for a life to begin.

For a business to take me in
give me the experience I lack.
In return I'll give back: hardwork, effort and sweat.
Which will help me to show that I'm able to grow.
And I deserve to leap out
from this pit,
trudging in ****.
From the depths of this dirt and weeds
where it all began as a seed.

A seed, a thought, a prognosis.
So now it's my time to show this;
Show what I've got on the surface.
Show that I am not worthless.
Show from a seed I have grown.
Show that I deserve a home.
A place to call my own.
Then once I am there I will know...

How?

I'll have blossomed

Basically I'm broken, shattered, pulled apart and torn to pieces, shards of sharp shimmering glass amass into a clump of crunching sounds. Crush. crack. Crunch and crumble.

My whole innards begin to tumble, whirr around like clothes in a dryer. Pockets not  checked, so their contents are set. Set to begin a cycle of being flung from side to side, swishing around, drowning in a swirl of cleanliness which should of course, ease the pain and wash away those steeped in stains and cleanse a spirit that's been pulled apart. Like a cotton thread. Slowly being pulled away from a wooley jumper as its caught.

Okay, it's caught on a zipper. from an old pair of jeans. Whose paths have crossed many times in outfit combos but now tumbling around together they no longer meld, together. They clash like; tartan and polka dots and conflict each others path to rightful cleanliness.

Basically I'm broken, shattered, pulled apart and torn to pieces, shards of sharp shimmering glass amass into a clump of crunching sounds. Crush. crack. Crunch and crumble

Alas, the thread is now long and wearing thin. It has lost its shape and would have to begin again. Once aired out to dry its a mound of mess, a cotton bundle looking all distressed. It tried its hardest to fight the emotion, the tug, of its strings to maintain its strength; but bowed down to defeat when knowing full well that it was beat. How could it now go on in life when it's torn. Torn to pieces and now ceases to exist in a form that would generally state: It! Exists!
Exists as a life form and a living part, how can things continue to breathe without a beating heart.

Thump thump, beat beat, thud thud. It starts. Thump thump, beat beat, thud thud. My heart.

Trying to mend the cracks with this battered *****. Mangled with regret and forlorn with spite, how can this reassess itself until it is right.

Thump thump, beat beat, thud thud. It starts. Thump thump, beat beat, thud thud. My heart.

It takes time to mend a broken ticker. Time passes by and memories become bitter, tainted with a brush that's tarred, marred with the longing for those moments to still occur. Not for your mind to now blur.
Blur those memories you once held so dear, remembered with a chuckle or a wry little smile. How can you comprehend these again for a while?!

You can't.
You shouldn't.
You couldn't.
So don't.

Thump thump. Beat beat, thud thud. It starts. Thump thump, beat beat. Thud thud. My heart.
broken, shattered, pulled apart and torn to pieces, shards of sharp shimmering glass amass into a clump of crunching sounds.
Crush.
crack.
Crunch.
Reassemble

living ‘lovelessly’ and longing for more
looking at couples through every window or door
looking for that one I can call my own
looking for those arms in which I’d be at home
looking for that special feeling called love
waiting for my angel to fall from above
waiting to find her, be it today or tomorrow
I'm having trouble coping with this lonely sorrow
the sorrow that sits deep within my heart
and hoping for the feeling of love to start
to start with a glance across a crowded room
for the whole room to fade out
and too shoot us too the moon
where we stare longingly into each others eyes
with the stars gleaming across the picturesque skies
this would be the moment I would feel love
the feeling that lifts you high up above
to a place were lonely can't reach
to a place where no ground is beneath
to a place where everything glows
to a place where all my happiness grows
grows up within me
from my head to my feet
sends me skipping joyfully down the street
singing along to no music at all
dancing around in the cafeteria hall
I do not mind what others may say
but having this meeting has made my day
my week my month my year
I now no longer have to fear
the loneliness that engulfed me everyday when alone
the feeling I would have just stumbling home
knowing that no one would greet me by my door
but these feelings I have no more
because I have found her the love of my life
and someday she may be my wife
and when that day comes too the moon again we will go
and just like before... everything will Glow.

A distance can't be measured if its a distance of the heart
Nothing can stretch across that far when two lovers part
It's not because the love has gone
It's because the distance for the loves increased
And one side can't travel that far now,
Rendering the relationship,
Deceased.
It would be spellbinding for this love story to go on and on
But then why prolong the hurt of a supposéd loved one.

Yet even though these lovers part
It's for the greater good
because now. it is not in the stars
the sky has been re-written
But that does not mean new artists
Could not reunite this pair
Because they left it when they did
Able to relinquish their care

So you may feel that a loved one maybe passed you by
but up above there is a plan
a plan within the sky
As one time when the heavens open and rain begins to fall
You'll reach up with your umbrella
and standing soaked forlorn
Will be that love of your life
Asking for shelter from the storm.

chances come and go
and loves may pass you by
but just so you know
There's that plan for us.
You and I.

Journeying intrepidly across the globe we roam
Bags on back
Clothes tight packed
in rolls to save some space
Tents and sleeping bags also
You know, just incase
Toothbrush in the side pocket
With soap, towel and shower gel
All those toilet necessities
Not forgetting deodorant as well
Other pocket for *** bits
Such as pen, pad an... Uhhh 'Dictionnaire'
Once you've settled in a bit
It's nice to show you care
By taking an effort to learn the language
Or at least a phrase or two
Not just the 'parle anglaise?' Or 'specken ze English?'
Stuff that'll get you through.
You want to be able to ask for a
Arancia, a Birne or even a Manzana
I mean your gonna need an orange a pear and an apple... well. aren't ya?
Then comes the paperwork
The booking
The flights
The bills
Practically impossible to get a holiday no frills.

"Friends"
so you've known them for years
but have they kept in touch
I mean they've seen your tears
but so have many films.

who keeps in contact?
regardless of: mileage, county, country or continent?
Not many people pick a pen write you a note send it direct to your address.

It's irregular
it's not normal
it's not the thing to do.
Often I just think some people expect that you will call
but how long would they wait before contacting you at all.
I'm not being despondent
I'm not being obtuse
I'm just saying that it happens some friends never contact you.
You'll always be the one to say
"Yo dude, I'm back at home"
as if you didn't make a conscious effort you'd probably spend your time alone.

Now that is just one case scenario
I mean; others you never see
can bump into you on the street one time
and reconnect instantly.
It may have been a month or more since you spoke to them last
It could have even been years ago since a conversation was had.

But a friend can be many things
They can live far far away from you
Or literally down the street
They may never be the one to contact you, yet are always up for a meet
They may always insist on paying or scrounge as much as they can get
They may always need the shoulder to cry on but never hear your woes
Each friendship is different, dependant on the people I suppose.

Time goes by.
Clocks tick tock.
Sun rise to Sun fall,
days get lost.
Hours drag.
Minutes do to.
Whiling away this period,
until I see you

When I then see you,
time stands still.
The sun beams a warm glow,
a warmth thats felt within.
Hours become wondrous
and minutes so worthwhile.
This period spent with you, is sure to make me Smile!

Aggravation.
Agitation
Unable to let it go.

Assessing the situation,
incase it comes to blows.

Choosing words wisely.
There can be no slip of the tongue.

Counting down from one to ten,
it's like Russian roulette
without a gun.

Back pushed up against the wall
a face within your space

He says "give me all your dough!"
You say "you shouldn't have done that.
No. Oh no. Oh no."

Then
Wham!
Thwack!
Biff!
Boom!
Clatter goes this guy

Walking away from a confrontation becomes hard when you're a spy.

Sat waiting the lights glare piercing and penetrating through my closed lids
Unaware of the hand tenderly caressing my fingertips
The warmth passes over them like a pause in the summer breeze
It's like I am not alone, this hand will not release
It will not release me from it's clinging grip
it's distance shall not decrease.
Forever it shall remain
My support.

The eyes are the doorways to our thoughts and hold in all that we see
They can make out the figure of a man in the distance watching as he draws closer
They can notice how he's walking and can spot what's in his hand
They can peer through the trees to observe a crime. They can avert themselves so they don't have to take stock of what they witness.

They can examine the crime scene or inspect it for clues
They can glance across to a colleague whose
gawping at the sky
They can survey the database and scrutinise suspects
They can ogle a coworker and behold her beauty whilst they study the facts and peruse through evidence
They can scan all the records till they see a match
They can look up the address and bring them to the court
They can glare at the perpetrator whilst he gazes down at the ground as he is taken away.

P** sychological perturbed by a fear of here and now
A gitated and on edge , weary of those around
N ever settled in any given circumstance
I ntimidated and full of worry, fear and
C autiousness, that is hidden behind a bravado.

A kiss
A cuddle
such simple acts to give
Yet
Each one is a contract
and here's what they entail

the kiss is an obligation
It's a choice you choose to take
The person offers themselves up
By leaning 90% of the way
You're then given the choice;
to oblige and accept their kiss
or give them that 10% of dignity to walk away and add this as an experience near missed

the cuddle however
also known as a hug
is a place in which
no words are said
and no feelings are emote'd
it's a silent contract stating
this is for here and now.
it's not something that lingers
Or takes your breath away.
well it shouldn't.
That is if you're
doing it right anyway

But a cuddle can be powerful
when nothing else is uttered
it's a way to get out all your angst
and clean your emotional gutters
then once you have relinquished your arms from around the other one
That's it the contracts over,
well until the next one.

At night
the sky
becomes
dank
dark
mysterious and shaded

At night
the sounds
become
loud
long
inconsistent and screechy

At night the sights
become
gruesome
ghoulish
nightmarish and scary

At night
The room
becomes
cold
creepy
unwelcoming and stale

Night night
Sleep tight
don't let the bed bugs
bite.

What's that sound?
a creaking in the hall
it's getting closer
I can sense it I'm sure

what's that noise?
I'm sure something's there
coming along the hallway
just past the stairs

is the door handle turning?
oh gosh I'm so scared
wished I'd left the light on
then I'd be more prepared.

What is that bright glow coming through the door?
I close my eyes
imagining they'll never open anymore

then a
hand
touches me
it's
breath
can be heard
a
kiss is planted
on my forehead
and I hear...
just, two words.



'Sweet dreams'



I open my eyes and through the darkness I see
there was nothing to be afraid of
Just my Mum coming to say night night to me.

the darkness may have worsened my fears of monsters tonight.
but I now know for the future
I'll always have a light.

Eyes feel heavy
Lids weigh tonnes
Counting sheep by the dozens

Pillows not soft
Beds not warm
Quilt lies rigid
Curtains not drawn

Of course at first when I layed down
It was for the purpose of sleep
Yet it has not come to take me
So at midnight I'll a creep

Make my way to kitchen
For a late night snack
Open up the Milk
Take a swig from the carton, then put it straight back.

Creep back quite slowly,
licking my lips
I do love a good midnight milk trip
Treading careful over creaky floorboards beneath
After all I don't want to reveal that
*I'm the milk thief

Night night
Sweet dreams
I doze
Until slumber encases my bones
and gentle rest befalls my eye
This time Nights my demise

I lay peaceful awake till I go
To the land of nod and below
From my mouth emits a yawn
The task will be complete before dawn

Sleep tight
Sleep well
Sleep
my love
Let only dreams flow above

So now shut your eyes
and think of blues skies
Night night
Sweetdreams
I doze.

Delving deep into the minds eye
Looking for hidden memories locked up inside
Will they reveal the darkest of truths
Or the most happiest of thoughts
Shall they be simple, or plain or bland
What will be the first that comes to hand
A memory of childhood?
A memory of grief?
A memory of you?
Or a memory quite brief?

Shall it be a moment
A snippet or snapshot
Of a time gone by and missed
Shall it be a moment
A snippet or snapshot
Of a time when joy was felt

Is a photograph all we have to remember these things that linger somewhere inside
Or is our brain protecting that left in our minds eye.
Surely it knows the secrets kept
The memories of its youth
But if it is locked up safe why do we seek the proof

A memory is a memory because its not forgot
It's not a festering carcass that has been left to rot.
It is something we hold dear
And sometime, after some years.
To the front of your mind they shall come

And when you get that reminder you'll be able to tell your loved ones

All about the days
You used to sit about, and run, and play
Then these will become part of them that they may re-tell one day

A glance across a crowded room
my eyes transfixed on another
From a distance our eyes meet for a moment then continue on there chartered course
But...upon my glancing return
Exudes a presence of wonder,
an aurora of sheer beauty,
an understated elegance
and sexiness a plenty.
That is a Woman!

Tried to send some proper flowers
Went to post them, it didn't work.
Just left there waiting.
Petals strewn around me, felt like a right berk.
So here's the best I could manage to send you a birthday wish
Just some folded up paper in a flower shape
Oh yeh an a kiss... X

First thing in the morning
Last thing late at night
It something I can't shake off
But wouldn't want to
Despite, the fact I'm not sleeping
The fact I'm still awake
It's a longing feeling that lingers everyday
But the thought of anything else on my mind
Scares me even more
If I let this fade out
Where will it reside
Shall it plague someone else's mind
I don't want to find
I lose all that I am wanting
I lose what I don't have
What is there really to lose, other than this feeling driving me mad
I just wish it was happiness that kept me from my bed
Not the unknowing doubt that flows through my head
Will it ever be so, or is this my destined fate
Am I ever to find out, can I beat the wait?
Waiting means more time
Left alone with my mind
But if she is the soul thought
I can get used to thoughts of that kind
Because its the only time I see her
That's the only time she is mine
Other than that what am I?
I'm not even a bit on the side
Surely it shouldn't hurt this much being in love if it is our goal
Yet why does this non reciprocated love leave such a gaping hole?
I feel like I am lying to myself and it never really was that good
But then I think about it and think No. Of course it was
How could it not be real, surely noone is that mean
But then circumstances rule some people, others change their fate
If it was worthwhile to them, I'd probably not have to wait

When the sunshine glares through a crack in the blind
Draw open the ******* and look upon mankind.
Its there.

From a distance her beauty shone like the embers of a fire
each curve of her face,
each strand of her hair,
glowing and glistening with a warmth incomparable to anything else.

Her eyes; mysterious,
giving off a twinkle that only a hidden gem buried in the dust could exude.
Powerful.
Bright,
but beautiful even though encased by filth.

Moving closer her beauty shone brighter.
The embers of her fire
igniting and setting flame to something deep within.
So deep it had never been graced by such warmth and beauty.
She had lit a fire in my heart.

The mundanity takes its toll
nothing to do whilst in this hole
Boredom ensues and fun departs
I hate this.

We** are all here for a purpose.
that purpose is...

steps were heard
they became distant
she had left me.

Love is a four letter word.
El.
Oh.
Vee.
E.

coping? not.
crying. shoulder.
comfort? got.
friend. there.
always. found.

Poignancy is a myth
and myths aren't spoken.
They're written.

When you gaze at the whole picture taking in the decision of each brush stroke,
each flick of the wrist, each speck of paint has been purposefully placed.
It's there to complete the image.
To finalise the composition.
If a stroke goes wrong, into the background it eventually fades.
To the unbeknownst onlooker
it's looks impeccably done
But there shall always be a mistake there and highly likely more than one.
Yet it's there for a reason, to add some dark and shade
to the light and masterful creation.
A creation we've all made.

If I died would you shed a tear?
If I cried would you be near?
If I was hurt would you nurse me to health?
If I was poor would you share your wealth?
If I loved you would you love me too?
If I was feeling down would you be feeling blue?
If we ever argued would you still be my friend?
If you would our Friendship will never end.

Happiness is a timebomb it goes a tick-tock tick-tock boom
One minute your all a flutter
Then thunderstorm, doom and gloom
Your joy can be stripped away like the shirt upon your back
Then it's all danger eyes
Attack! Attack! Attack!
You can have a beaming smile spanning from cheek to cheek
But then you hear some awful news and whoosh there goes your week
The only remedy I have to cure the returning glum
Is find yourself the warmth of a special loved one
They can give you a shoulder to cry on
They can wipe away those knives
They can reset the clocks batteries
They. Can change your lives
So the only way to detonate this so called happiness bomb
Is to hold on dearly to the loving special one

A solitary seagull sits bobbing on the waves
the waves culminate together and generate cascades
The seagull stays determined he will not be dragged down
yet one little misjudgment of a wave and this poor fellow will drown.

Within my room theres very little for a descriptive imagination
just a canvas shelfing unit, a single bed and a bag.
I would go on and on but that is all that I have.
The bed that I sit upon is without a duvet cover.
the pillowcase doesn't match the sheet but alas I have no other.
The walls are bare and lifeless with no colour aire in sight.
The light within the room flickers, like a lampost awaiting the night.
The canvas shelfing unit that above I did foremention,
has a ricketty frame and needs some; careful love and attention.
it has a certain character. like a frail hunchbacked old man
unable to fully stand up straight but trying the best he can.
The bag is sat dormant in the middle of the room, it makes it feel lived in
and homely, I presume.
Yet every night I enter here and feel a sense of despair
but what am I supposed to do
when that is all that I have there.

Throughout life people will show you love
love from one another,love from above
from those who have moved on and those who still linger
within my heart and sometimes wander,
through my head and in my mind
knowing that they're safe inside
in my thoughts whilst layed in bed
in my heart whilst making zed's
and, though I'm asleep I can still feel
that all knowing eye watching over
thinking of me, and keeping me safe
knowing with it watching me I'm in a good place.
this eye also has a voice
a well known voice, to which I might add
this voice I speak of happens to be My Dad.

My Dad.
My Daddy.
My ***
MY HERO

just imagining being with him makes me feel so high
like a fluttering starling floating across a sunlit sky
it makes me feel warm and stops me being mad
this is where I go to when I feel sad, when I feel aggressive or need to feel glad
glad that I have something to achieve
to make my dad proud of me
because he believed,
I could do anything that could make him proud
but I want to impress him and shout it out loud
I want to say that my dad was the best
he helps me through everything although he's not there
I can feel his presence in the air
it runs through me because he is my warmth
he is my idol
he is my king
his is what i believe in

I will meet with him again one day
Him.
my Dad.
My Daddy.
My ***.
**MY HERO

If you have issues with drugs you'd always talk to Frank
If you were having money troubles you'd go straight to the bank
But if you had to vent your anger
To whom would you go
Well here's a little secret from someone in the know

When you have the need to vent
There's no better man to call, than the vent'i'taker - stress collector
Or just for short Paul.

He will take on all your aggression and shred it nice and small
As once he has done that there will be no stress at all.

He can cut up people also...but that's a very bad thing to ask,
As if Paul got caught...he would be straight in jail.
And very very fast.

Along a secluded street a light dimly flickers upon the porch beneath
The chair swing creaks as the breeze flows past
as the leaves fall gently to the ground from the solitary tree laying central on the grass
Footsteps can be heard, in the background amidst the autumn gloom

The street is still, it's apparent that no life has been here for some time
But still the sounds of the street linger like it was only yesterday when families, cars and pets were present

A storm came raging through many years ago, the town has been left dormant since
No one had dared to go, to view the devastation left behind from all the chaos

Yet now a women looks upon it, the footsteps heard were hers
She's remembering all the sights and sounds that once filled the street
A strange expression draws across her face as if she is in pain
But she's just remembering the storm that came with thunder lightning and rain

It rained for what seemed a century and floods waged war on the trees
When lightning struck the houses it brought them to their knees
The thunder rocked the neighbourhood as it was the first sign of the storm
But as this woman stood alone the street just looked forlorn.

Only one living thing survived the desecration of this town
and now she was here one last time to lay the past to rest
She was reliving the horrifying ordeal
but all in her best interest

The experience had effected her way deep within her soul
The life she was living now was incomplete
She wanted to forget it all and move on with her life
But as she stood there taking it in
She realised
The memories of this town were only in her head, and once she wiped them from her
The town truly would be dead.

Because her memories kept it living
Her memories have the ability to
shine a light upon the porch
Show parents on the chair swing
and children climbing the tree.
The past will remain through the power of her memory.

There was once a small ape called Peter
He was brown like the trees in your yard
He had a few spikey hairs on the top of his head
And thousands upon thousands on his arms

He wasn't just your ordinary ape though
He had big bushy eyebrows
And deep dark green eyes
He was shorter than other apes
But he didn't mind

Because he knew he was special
His mother told him so
She told him every single day
Before he would go to leave
Leave to go to ape school
To study his Ape Bee Seas

He often wondered whether,
one day she would stop
Then one day his mother did
That was once he'd grown up

And now he is a big ape he longs to hear those words
So when your mother repeats something
It's so it sinks in
and you never forget what they've told you
So pay attention and listen.