My voice may not be sung.
But tis in the things done
In the choices I make — 
Good, bad. Unknown, they leave their wake — 

In the stories wrote,
In the battles fought.
In the colours I paint,
And decisions without constraint.

On the quiet places, it resonates,
Growing deeper with faith,
The tune changes,
With the new victories, He arranges.

One healthy choice a day can significantly improve your health and overall well-being.

I see the endings in their birth,
The wilt curled in the bloom,
The echo in the first soft word
That hums of pending gloom.

Yet on I go, with knowing steps,
Down paths that twist and burn
Not for hope, nor fate, nor faith,
But just to feel the turn.

It’s not some tragic grandeur,
No noble, aching art
Just a quiet urge to prove myself
The fool I knew at start.

Sometimes you have to fall on your knees,                                                           ­ 
                                                                ­                                                        
to prove how strong you can really
be                                                              
                                                                ­                                                      
The ability to get back
up,                                                             ­                                                                 ­                                                                 ­                                           
can make you hard, make you
tough                                                           ­                                                   
                                                                ­                                    
    Sometimes you have to shed some tears                                                            ­        
to realize how to fight your fears
                                                                 ­                                                  
You know what they all say,                                                             ­         
                                                       ­                                                         
there are gonna be better days                                                             ­           
                                                                ­                                                      
A broken heart can heal
itself,                                                          ­              
                                                                ­                                                
with a little love, a little
help                                                             ­                           
                                     ­                                                                 ­        
Don't just give your heart
away                                                             ­                                             
                                                                ­                                          
because someone tells you it's
okay                                                             ­     
                                                           ­                                                   
Love's not all that it's cracked up to
be                                                              
­                                                                 ­                                                 
and being alone doesn't mean
lonely                                                           ­           
                                                     ­                                                            
  Learn to love yourself the
  best                                                          ­                
                                                                ­                                                 
 and let God do all the
  rest                                                          ­                  
                                              ­                                                                 ­     
  Be your own true & best friend,                                                          ­
                                                                ­                                                     
  we all die alone in the
  end                                                           ­                 
                                               ­                                                                 ­    
Do what is right between you &
you,                                                             ­   
                                                             ­                                                     
life is beautiful when you do

A bouquet of flowers is a sweet gift,
peonies pink, roses red, orchids white.
Stems neatly trimmed, wrapped and delivered swift,
a sign of care, igniting new light.
But be wary of ill-fated decisions,
of carnations, tansies, roses – yellow.
Of clumped, wilted bundles, inner collisions.
A sign, that love will not be what you sow.
Maybe, instead, find the seedlings for you,
and remember every flower can grow.
Water, sunlight, and the will to stay true,
could be enough, to see them bloom and glow.
And while flower language loses voices,
remember your right – chase your good choices.

There's a long & winding road,                                                            ­
                                                                ­                                                 
 where for the price of your soul,                                                            ­            
                                                    ­                                                    
depression will give birth                                                            ­                                                 
                                                                ­                                                    
 It costs whatever you are worth                                                            ­                                                
   If you chose to reside,                                                          ­                              
                                                                ­                                                      
you better swallow your pride,                                                           ­         
                                                       ­                                                             
It'll take the strut from your stride,                                                          ­  
                                                                ­                                                
possess you from the inside                                                           ­                   
                                                                ­                                                  
It lives to take your voice,                                                           ­               
                                                                ­                                              
make you surrender your choice                                                           ­             
                                                   ­                                                                
                                                                ­                                                    
To dry all of your tears,                                                           ­                         
                                       ­                                                                 ­        
pain is music to its ears                                                             ­                   
                                                                ­                                                        It gathers it's strength,                                                        ­                            
                                                                ­                                                   
during your quick descent                                                          ­                                                                 ­                                     
                                                                ­                                                    
As you slowly wind down,                                                            ­                  
                                              ­                                                                 ­       
no solutions to be found                                                            ­                            
                                                                ­                                                  
The road is covered in vines,                                                           ­                   
                                                                ­                                          
growing fast over time                                                             ­                     
                                                                ­                                                    
don't find your way there,                                                           ­                         
                                                                ­                                                    
  it's the road to despair

Now, if I have a good idea
Or something that would be beneficial,
Does this mean I am required to share it?
That you are deserving of it
Regardless of my judgements?

If I see you about to do something wrong
Or that I am sure of will be a mistake,
Does that mean I am required to help you?
That you are worthy of it
Regardless of my verdicts?

This life was a mistake
A choice I wasn't given
A story I didn't write

Prune the branches
The wounds weep
Sap like sorrow—
Grief without end

Sever the root
To bring relief
But the story withers—
And still, the ache remains

I'm at a crossroads
All I write is wrongs

  A rootless thing,
  Still reaching—
  I never asked for this

I am afraid of death’s kindness,
But life is no friend of mine

I wonder if I could be blamed
for what my choice might be.
Between a man and a bear
and which one I would think may fight fair.

See I'm not to sure I'd need to give it much thought,
I think I'd choose the bear.
Because at least I'd know what came next,
no one expects a bear to fight fair.

A bear would not lie to me,
or first make me fall in love.
And bear would not get me wondering if I were truly nuts.

A bear might rip me limb from limb
but at least when it was done
The bear would not sit there and claim,
that he had done it out of love.

And the bear would not apologize then do it all again.
A bear would never hurt me by hooking up with my friend.

A bear wouldn't lie to me about the intentions that it had.
And a bear wouldn't call me crazy, anytime it made me mad.

The bear would probably **** me yes.
But at least then it would be done.
I wouldn't have to live with the pain, of what the bear had done.

The bear wouldn't play games with my mind.
It would either **** me or not.
But if I were to choose the man,
well I'd be better off to not.

Cuz a bear wouldn't do any of those things,
that I just described.
But I've been with the man who did them,
and it left me barely alive.

Working 9-5 struggling to feel alive, yet the pleasures of the weekend call to me.

My manager treats me well, lets me live in a glorified prison cell, 4 walls and a lack of sunshine to get me by.

Because the bottom line was worth my talents being bought on the bottom dollar so my boss can afford another Porsche.

I spend my days in a relentless haze looking at a life that I wish I had. Restless and lacking an emotional albi, my head holds me back because my heart knows I've tried to find the map to success one too many times.

What I do know to be true is that all my thoughts lead me back to you and what we'd do if we lost it all tomorrow.

Because everything we own is borrowed yet our time is owed to pay our debts and drown our sorrows in the latest fashion and technology credit can buy.

All of this a countless scheme living in a capitalistic regime where the boss makes a dollar and I wish I had a dime.

When does this cycle end, what I would give to have my livelihood extend, instead of running a rat race against my will.

Not to be instruspective here, but at this rate you're already dead my dear and the light leaving my eyes is not to far behind.

So, I take my 2 weeks vacation a year and pride myself on facing my fears because if my routine were to ever break I'm not sure what else I'd find.

Let's raise our glasses and make a toast, to the cubicles we live in the most. May a workaholic's love never find me.