Torn between reading
And wanting to write
Follow their story
Or design my own plight.
How they make it look easy
Each twist and turn
While my chapters and plots
Seem to crash and burn.
I have it planned in my mind
But when it hits the page
It seems to escape
And turn into a rage.
I can't reign in
What I meant to say
It's determined to escape
And find its' own way.
As the paper soaks up
My bleeding pen
I cry revisions
As I begin again.

I stand on top of my world
In my comfortable clothes
And my padded shoes
A nice jacket to keep me warm
And shades to cover my eyes,
And I watch the world.
I see him struggling to pay the bills
And feed his family
And I admire him.
She's so terrified
She's pregnant and alone
But she's determined to keep that baby.
I envy that strength.
They have a dream
And they put all their energy
Into accomplishing it.
They won't consider failure.
I long for that mind set.
That heart-breaking child
With no hair from the chemo
Laughs
And encourages others to live.
I stare in wonder
With my nice comfortable life
That I seldom take part in,
And I wonder at the hand of God.
Maybe
He's calling that child
Because he deserves a promised land

Dew drops drip
In a deafening sound
To the fairies and sprites
That are gathered around.
In their minuscule world
That I seldom see,
I'm amazed and surprised
At how much it affects me.
A simple ripple
In the tiniest pond
Can reach to infinity
And beyond.

What horrors happen in life
To twist the mind
To make it abandon
It's normal confines.
To need to hurt
Or want to ****;
To find some fun
Or perverted thrill.
Looking back some seem
To have had no need
To find violence
A place to feed.
Normal parents
And normal lives;
And yet this is how
They chose to survive.
How could they have done
Such unspeakable acts
Some part of me wants to understand;
But there's that horrible thought
That if I do
I'm afraid that I'll
Have condoned their hand.

We struggle with the hopes and dread
Weaving choices through destiny's thread.
Knowing where we want to go;
Choosing decisions that might not make it so.
Sometimes we forget
To cultivate dreams
Missed opportunities
Can rip out the seams.
We seem to expect happiness
To fall in our hands;
But we have to capture it
Like an hourglass and sand.
We need to search for what's good
More than what's bad;
Look for the joy
And tone out the sad.
Find our own way to fix
What we deem is wrong;
Find our own niche
To where we belong.

I once wanted to be a doctor.
A surgeon, to be exact.
Blood never bothered me,
and I wanted to save people.
But, you see, I couldn't be that.
Surgery requires precision,
And my hands shake
when I need them to be still.

I wanted to save lives,
To heal the sick,
To revive the dying.
I thought I could be
that godlike figure,
Defying death and
Stealing its victims.

But I cannot,
Simply because my hands shake
With the weight of the past.