Grief streaming across your face
Having a party in your disgrace
So pick yourself up
Dust yourself off
Pick yourself up
Dust yourself off
Let it be a lesson,
Do not feed the vultures.
Owners mess is an expensive little dessert filled with two battling persons, fighting bitterly, served over a copyright issue. Finished with a garnish of mint.
I wrote this a while ago, found it in the drafts.
Forever debating what I should say,
How to survive and get through the day.
remain in my head,
From the moment I wake until I return to bed.
Erected a barrier so others won’t know,
How embarrassing it is to let the pain show.
Can’t change the past,
It’s forever haunting.
Does the future have to seem so daunting.
@copyright 2018 Luke Wallace
Have you ever had a song repeat?
And turn you a certin way?
For in passing I see
Now that Mayer maybe
When he said
"Would you say what you need to say?"
Such is a necessity
Sometimes I don't know how to say it. Or simply how to ask. Because I put on such a truly confident mask all the time. But at the end of the day, Im just like you. Very much imperfect in all things. *nod*
I stumble when my tired feet attempt to walk,
I stutter when my ancient tongue tries to talk.
I count the years and fear strikes me cold
I know now that I am afraid of being old.
A wrinkle arrives most every single day
No amount of treatment can make it go away.
Rest does little to appease my constant fear
I think about the other side and shed a quiet tear.
Will I miss my loves, my dreams and such?
Will I still long for someone’s warm loving touch?
Age always works for wine and cheese
But it is a tragic enemy of memories.
Dreams become less important and almost dry
No warmth or promise not even a gentle sigh.
Tread lightly when you wake each morn
Try to recall that special day the one when you were born.
If I could fly,
Then I would try.
If I could try,
Then I would not fail.
And when I do not fail,
I can escape
And I will be free
Hey this is what I used to get in, plz no copying
Song Filled Hour ....
*A song from the bush , a cry at the prequel to dusk , Agents of change that ride mercurial winds through evenings golden hour
Sing to me* ...
We fall for a reason
We rise for a purpose
Love that is seen in the smallest of moments, is what makes life livable