over the years,
i've collected images
of various escapades
all thrown away
when they thought
no one was looking.

i've listened to cries
hiding beneath their
ringing laughters
and tucked those tears
away in clear bottles
for safekeeping.

i've helped mend
battered hearts
& fractured souls,
then whispered comforts
about dreams & hopes.


i have done all those and more.


and now,

i want to know
if a song can rise from
the ashes of a broken life.

I am not one to treat a beast decent
but I've fed that demon as of recent
this creature eats my peaceful pieces
with hate increased, my whole decreases

You're a breath of fresh air in a world of smokestack trees.

Lying makes a placeholder for the inevitable truth. The lie will become the truth, as a rectangle can be squeezed back into a square.