A blinding light from the phone the teenager wakes up to at one in the morning - everyone’s been there, technology advances as our moods considerably decrease.
Smooth waters at the bay, a pretty blue light reflecting in the sailors eyes - but he wants to be greater than he already might be, so he sails out to find more difficult places and larger waves.
And one should never make a promise they know they can’t keep because words can cut like knives, if not worse, leaving deep, horrid scars everywhere they might so softly touch.
But then the new mother looks down at her gorgeous newborn angel with beautiful bright green eyes, realizing things’ll now change; for infants bring hope to a cold, hopeless world;
Yet there’s another new mother across the world somewhere in which is checking her balance, seeing which item she should buy though she can’t afford - diapers or baby food.
We all know how pictures can speak a thousand words, floating gracefully within the air - but too few words can not paint a colorful picture at all, it’ll just be grey and empty and sad and pointless.
Sometimes the person you'd take a sharp bullet for is the one that pulls the trigger of that dull handgun, and you were just on the wrong end of it...and you'll end up talking to them later, asking them how prison food tastes, saying "hope you're doing well, I'm still in the hospital, haha."
But what? Have you eyes in the back of your head? No? Well then why are you walking backwards, my dear?
Even when one runs into those low self-esteemed bullies thinking they can fix themselves by breaking everyone else, physically or mentally, get suspended for a fight - because constantly getting in trouble is funny and cool, right?
There’s a teacher across the empty, echoing school hall, one who wants to be more; have more classes; help more kids succeed with their sometimes outrageous dreams.
There’s a beautiful rainbow stretched across the bright sky in which is waiting to find its end; waiting to find its clouds to complete the breathtaking, aesthetic, panorama picture...
She sits there staring at empty cups, hoping to fill them all up one fine day but saying that she can't do it alone...and that’s the reason they will never be filled with any thirst-quenching liquid,
With rain softly falling, a homeless man on the side of the street with his empty hands out and a tearful look in his eyes, sign sitting next to him,
People stop, people stare, then get upset when they see something a little too violent for their taste although they asked - no, they begged, for it...
Feel the burn of the scorching hot fire made from the lies everyone can’t help but tell.
But still, there’s that little light of hope. The yin-yang symbol doesn’t lie - that little sliver that keeps us going, the 'what if' statement we all hold onto and keep close like a golden locket given to us passed down for generations.
I once came across a seemingly dead tree with but a single flower somehow still growing beautifully, vibrantly, peacefully as if the rest of the tree was still alive.
Those who are non-believers sitting alone, believing in the fact that there's nothing there...those who are believers, though...still. Sit. Alone. Because they're not always all that different from those who don't.
Confident singers are engraved with hallelujahs, just as the guilty, depressed, warn-out poet may write about pain, possibly from their dead members gone too soon, now lying under a rock engraved with their names.
Don’t only feel, but also see his guitar shooting musical notes like bullets across the room, reaching the crowd, hearing them roar louder than an untamed lion, for he remembered his dreams and never gave up on them.
These sentences all ask but a few questions; who’s good enough, who’s not? Who’s going to make it, who’s not? But it’s a trick, because everyone who reads this imperfect line in a book or on the screen of a device, is in fact, perfectly imperfect.
Still don’t believe it? Then go and get all the canned goods out of the pantry - whether it’s beans, carrots, corn, soup, anything. Just get everything. Big cans or small cans, taller ones or shorter ones. Get all of them.
Place all those cans on the smooth, tan countertop, look back at the pantry which should now seem far more empty than it was before - that’s what the world would look like without you...without the reverberating sound of your footsteps. It would look empty.
Sitting on the bus stop bench all alone, with nothing but a broken, bleeding, but still beating heart in hand - look down and see that you’re still holding on and it’s for a reason. And for a very good reason, at that.
These words are meant to cut like knives, not on the wrists of those who think pain is the answer, but on the heart of those who realise it’s not…
Picture daddy telling you how to act tough, how to take a punch right to the face...imagine mama telling you to let go of things. It’s fine, just sweep it under the rug, let it go, it’s fine. But it’s not fine, is it?
Trust me, you want to make a footprint in the sand, not a ****-print. So get up off of your *** and start walking, feel the warm, golden substance tickle between your toes, and it doesn't even matter if it’s the right direction or not - just walk. Keep walking.
Walk if you don’t want to feel empty or alone anymore. Walk and don’t you dare stop.