Life is life
Winding streets
Laughter
Love
Moving feet

Take every step
With cautious care
Eventually
You will get somewhere

Doomed as he may be
For he is a baby
Lost unto the stars
He crashes onto a farm

Life does it's thing
For he has no king
Eighteen years pass by
The last son takes to the sky

He flies to the city
And he saves a little kitty
He takes to the sky
And he hears a mild cry
He flies to her cry
It's too late for she has died

He slumps at his work
For he is such a dork
Unbeknownst to everyone
The last son tries to save everyone

I wish I could create
Something meaningful

It’s driving by the shoreline after dark
Marveling at city lights across the way
It’s waking up early for college classes
And taking a nap together later that day
It’s being held in your arms at a concert
With tickets we convinced the other to buy
It’s sitting on the floor of my room
Unwilling to tell each other goodbye
I have a request to make of you, my love
I know I can’t change what will be
I hate to let you go, but I’ll be right here
Please keep coming back to me

from day one he held her fragile hand
tugged her along the cliff's edge
watched her through even the longest of days
or peered throughout the green garden's hedge
he tugged a bit harder the older she got
until her skin drooped like elastic torn apart
fed her alcohol like a bottle to a baby
popped her pills till it paused her heart
As he'd comb his hands though her soft brown hair
streaks of gray followed the strands he once brushed
he'd press his black lips on her sun spotted cheeks
and place a rotten finger over her mouth whispering, "hush"
he tugged her night gown once more in the rocking chair
as wind from the open window brushed by with a chill
he held the jagged dagger up to her neck
although his intention was not to ****
as he sliced her open, the scythe hit the ground
her eyes of glass finally stood still
he brushed her hair behind her ear and whisperd
"i promise, my intention was not to ****."
They walked away from the old rocking chair
hand in hand like it was from the start
because although life gives you your pulse
the reaper steals your beating heart

I would like to meet my true potential
I don’t think he’d be so provincial
I’d like for him to be influential
Maybe even presidential
And life would not be so abysmal
Hedonistic ways not quite so sinful
To friends and family essential
Words not so banal and artificial
But instead heartening and meaningful