You inspired her to write again. To see the pure in what she wrote. She'll still have days of doubt, of course, but... *This song. It catches the tears in her throat, Causes her to think about the things she's done, What she could do, And all the things she aspires to be.
If I was to write Something so terribly drastic I would get asked Question upon Question And if I was to write Something so terribly amazing I would be praised Compliment upon Compliment. Yet... Instead, I write this, Because that hardly happens And instead I am left Wondering doubt upon Doubt.
A bombs gotta explode someone, sweetie Otherwise it could be dangerous in the wrong hands Move away before it burns the skin And kills your organs Move further, You don't want to be hit by shrapnel Even that's dangerous you know?
We've all got time to Sit. Wait. Ponder. But everybody's time is different. Sometimes we use our time to Ponder. Sit. Wait Or maybe Wait. Ponder. Sit. The truth is, whether we make our time to fit either third category, We all still have time to do them. Time to sit down and wait for the time that pondering Just becomes a figment Of our imagination.
A glassful of orange And a plateful of eggs Spiced up pepper And the tang of chili A room full of teens And a wedding full of adults Sweetened down candles And the reeking nip of cake Nostrils flaring And watering mouths Throats burning And stomachs grumbling People eat And they can smell The sweet, sweet shell Of a rhubarb treat