it was 3am
i was wandering downtown
with a bottle of *** in one hand
and a penchant for bad decisions in the other
so i did not know what i was doing

somehow
i ending up buying a medium shophouse
2 floors and many doors
several rooms id assume
i said to myself
what could i do to brighten up this place
so i filled the space with pictures of your face

on the bus ride home
you look around
so many different faces
so many different stories
you think about how they individually got to that point
in their lives sitting in the bus with you
how insignificant you are to them and them to you
yet their stories are incredible just like yours
you get off at your stop
life goes on and probably never seeing those faces again
yet their presence might have impacted your life
in ways you cannot comprehend
and you will never know

you ask life for lemons
life kicks you to the ground
someone else asks life for lemons
life gives him everything he has ever wanted

plastic roses will last the longest

i wonder where the birds go
i wander where the birds go

this is a private message:

turn into a narrow quiet street
go down it
and all you will find are
empty desolate houses
and end of the road
you've been here before
the dead yet magnificent oak tree
lifeless swing hung on the bough
withered grass all around
milk coffee brown
silence
the birds have long gone
the road cold and uneven
memories are not for the faint hearted
more often than not the past is prettier than it seemed to be
turnaround
but don't recount your steps