Day by day I walk down this sidewalk.
Always alone.
Excluding the one time someone walked with me.

We walked down the side walk together.
Something had happened earlier and we had to get away from it all.
Everything is going to be okay I told her.
Just breath.

Never again did she walk the lonely sidewalk with me again.
Instead she began walking with a different friend.
Back to the old times.
Back to walking alone.

So this is a poem for all the people out there.
The people who used to live like they didn't care.
The ones scared to speak up.
The ones who always felt like they messed up.
To all of you who have a history.
It's that story.
The one that makes up you.
Yeah there are very few.
Few similar.
Many who have walked down the road you went down.
The road you ran to when you felt like nobody else was around.
There was always someone who saw your pain when you cried.
Someone who would have stayed up countless nights.
Someone who let go of themselves to make sure your alright.
So this poem is for all the recovering people.
The ones who feel like they were lost.
Hopeless even.
Relying on drugs, achohol, ***, and other outlets.
Personal my Ive found that you can't always have those to rely on.
Eventually they are gonna be the reason you refuse to carry on.
You are all so important.
You are all so different.
However you wound up where you are today,
Know there is important in your history.
Everything you've ever done has led up to someone.
I know friends who have gotten past everything that used to drown them. I'm so freaking proud of them.

Fragile
Pale
Paper thin
Who she was is hiding within

I cry
And plead
Through quivering lips
As her essence slips through my finger tips

Her soul
Her heart
And Her mind
Disconnected all this time

So I pray and pray that she may stay
One more day, I say, just one more day

Fly until summer’s gone
Nothing left
No place smiles
You creep into bed
Lost in a haze of thoughts
Of the queen of a dying
Country.
Midnight was a time of
Beginning.
Transition.
Still, it is.
But not as new
Cold poets weeping
Their tears
Riveting fish
In bowls
Who have never seen water out of
Context.
Just stand there
And breathe their pain
Hear the way their eyes droop
It’s like they cannot bear to
Look up
To the moon and star spattered sky
No longer
But forever more.
You want a song sung
Of passion
Of happiness
Of love.
Yet when poets cry
And fish gape like
They’re being strangled
Willingly
And the midnight has lost its
Whimsy
Where is the dawn at the end?
At the end of a sleepless night?
Where is the relief after a long cry?
Where is the joy of seeing a friend?
Climbing a mountain
Dancing in the rain?
How can you find rest,
Until you find
Your friend and sink into
An embrace?
How can you dance in the rain
When the sun is smothering the clouds?
How can you cease the
Wild torrent of tears
When you know there will be no
Relief?
How can you fall asleep peacefully when you know there will be no
Morning?
How can you climb the mountain
When you can’t see
Where your feet are treading?
How can you stop?
Fly.
Fly until it’s over.