Sometimes I lay awake at night.
Afraid to dream,
but mostly I'm afriad those dreams won't come true.

Ocasionally, on a breezy night, when
the winds are blowing through.
I listen as the grasshoppers chirp, and
paint the morning dew.

And In the morning when
the chirping choir has gone their seperate ways
I hear the clouds rumbling in
to bring the afternoon some shade.

Soon the clouds grow darker, as
they hide the sun from sight.
Bringing out the glorious moon,
and turning day to night.

Then the winds start howling,
calling out their names.
Bringing out the night time chirpers,
to sing their song again.

Life is like a photo.
Is it?
well at least that's what they say...
Well, if life were really like a photo
why do we spend all our time posing
for the camera?
Instead of capturing the moment,
why not be captured by the moment?
And if life was like a photo,
then why is everything standstill?

What if people lie,  
in order to protect others.
Although, to be protected,
I would rather know the truth.
Wouldn't you?
Why then do they lie,
choose to hurt us?
Can they not see the pain we breath? Or,
maybe the pain is natural? So, it is thought as nothing.
Either way they continue to lie,
yet protect others all the same.

Parents:
Overbearing,
too
controlling,
always
out
of
line,
demand­ing,
embarassing.
Cruelty
undefined,
liars,
protectors,
lovers,
homewreckers,
caring, kind, considerate,
bossy,
loving,
sweet,
caregivers.
And definitively
Mine. <3

Do you hear my soul?
Speaking from within
Can't you hear it,
Begging, pleading,
Praying to begin?
Moments passing,
No adventure.
When does life
Give In?
Where are the moments,
My moments,
I wish to hold myself
In?

I dream of simple pleasures
like hot chocolate in the cold.

I dream of simple pleasures
for the words I love you to be told.

I dream of simple pleasures
which to me are so complex.

I dream of simple answers
so I no longer have to fret.

I've heard them talking, you know?
And they all say the same things,
they tell me that the truth will set you free.
If this is the case,
why do I find people hiding,
cowering in the face of truth.
What are they afraid of?
Why would they run, freedom is not to be feared.
Unless...
We are all prisoners, captives to our master?
Maybe we are respectivly afraid of our master? Or,
we frightened at the thought of being beat.
Beaten by the truth?
Are we waiting to be set free from the truth,
as he is the key to our freedom?