Stories make us who we are
Have to share every instance
That can give someone the slightest hint
Of who you are
God forbid, your words aren't heard
You swore to yourself
That you'd leaving feeling
Strong in your word
With an image to match
But like this little match
That can't light damp heavy wood
Your burning all your energy
To be understood and brought to life
In bright bursts  of fire
But the jobs too big
And the efforts go unnoticed
To all except for the pile of
Matches at the bottom of this pit
Swing and a miss