Does the **** have any less a right to grow,
than the rose?
Does the moon love the sun for lending it light,
or envy it for the same?
Does the wind bear ill-will to the trees for the obstruction,
or does it thank them for the music?
Are we all in this world marching toward an end,
or back to the beginning?
These are the things that keep me awake at night.
These are the things that impede my dreams.

I don't have any excuses for my ****-stained existence
I never doubted my Father's love
My Mother practices gentle sainthood without a hint of judgement
The children are top shelf human blessings to humanity
I am told I am loved and sometimes I almost believe it

The best I can come up with is that we all keep secrets from one another
Which is another way of saying we don't know one another at all
Maybe all of us are living in so much pain the only thing we know is to build walls around our selves to keep some semblance of sanity
I make no excuses I can't bring myself to say a ******* thing

Traces you left on my skin
I can measure them inch by inch
Words or it was a spill of ink
Time and again, I hear them ringing
So sweet was your voice
Just made me dreaming  
I look at you and a memory haunts me
You are not the same person that once used to love me
Was our love so fragile???
That anything can break it
Or was I to fool?
What was my fault?
I couldn’t make it
Melancholy keeps me drowning
Broken promises, dreams sundering
What you had really made out of me, i keep wondering

:( :(