You see that tear slide from her eye
Yet you do nothing
You walk away unsure of yourself
She falls to her knees and cries
You continue to walk away
Thinking only of yourself
It was your fault
Yet you deny it
Later you'll break up with her
And then complain about it
That she wasn't good enough
You could do better

You notice your grades slip
And you complain about it
But you don't study
You say school is stupid
It's a waste of time
Yet you take a test and get upset at the results
You get help for that job placement test
And yet you still say school is ****

You get the job that you wanted
But it doesn't play out like you dreamed
You complain about it
And let yourself feel sorry
Yet you don't try at it
You let it eat you alive
Still not trying and yet you think you deserve a raise
You think it will happen if you stay long enough

You let your body go
Eating, partying, playing games
And you complain about it
Yet you don't try to fix it
You don't feel like working out
Or running like you use to
You say you'll do it later
but never do
Life, you say, *****
But you never try to make it better
You say maybe later I'll take a stab at it

You get angry at everything
Your job
Your friends
Your games
Your life
Yet you don't do anything about it
You'll throw things, hit things, but worst of all

You'll complain

This world of color truly touches my heart.It bursts from imagination, into creation, into being and into destruction.
This is an endless cycle, a cycle of life and death. Ideas come and go, just like people, except for the exception, that sometimes they come back.
Like a blooming flower, imagination buds from the senses of the world and blooms into existence. It's petals unfurl and explode with life, with all aspects of simplicity and complexity. Already born and grown as it is, it flies, shooting like a star, but upwards, towards the sky of promise and freedom. As it flies, it sheds both light and darkness, and drops knowledge and wisdom upon the world all over.
But only the people who keep their doors of imagination open, and only the people who know how the world is for what it is, and only the people who's hearts are open to hope, can see them. And only they can catch it. And only they can hold onto it and let it run freely in themselves, until the time comes when that knowledge and wisdom, when that creativity and hope, and all the wonder in it's light, may finally be unleashed upon us all. Only these people hold the key. Only these people, will save us all.
Are you a child of imagination?
And are you a child of hope?

There are a lot of things to be doing
And time is ticking
But I'm still not moving
Then suddenly I'm thinking
Maybe tomorrow, yes, I am procrastinating