I always carry a question, with me inside,
What is my purpose, why am I still alive,
I know there is a reason, that’s why I always try.

I was the youngest in my family, of five,
My parents, two siblings, and the lady I married,
Their souls moved on, when they died,
One thing I have learned, how to wipe tears from my eyes.

I personally don’t know anyone,
Living in the situation, I’m in,
Everyone, may not always agree, they still have family,
That they can call kin, I would have a hard time,
Explaining, the emotions & feelings, I carry within.

No one to make plans with, in any way,
Only thoughts in my mind, if I have a good or bad day,
I do know one thing, I am next in line,
To be placed, in a grave.
The End

                                   The Original: Tom Maxwell © 5/05/2025 AD

I’ve died so many quiet deaths—
shedding selves that were never wrong,
just no longer true.

Each one carried me
as far as it could
before laying itself down
so I could rise.

Now that I’ve found healing,
I see it was always there—
a quiet knowing,
guiding me forward
through the dark.

But now I wonder—
was it the knowing that shaped the path,
or the path that shaped the knowing?
Did I become who I was meant to be,
or did I simply arrive
where I’d always been?

Compared to God
We're all a bunch
Of ugly retards
Rolling boulders
Up a mountain
Desiring to ***** a megalithic monument to ourselves
That will stand out
In the ant hill
Called "Human
Civilization".

Bend like bamboo,
Brittle people break.

Resist yet be resilient,
Persevere, yet,

With purpose.

We are not born with fire—
we choose it.
In the silence of doubt,
in the ache of waking pain,
we reach for a flame
that doesn’t burn,
but builds.

Some of us burn
not to destroy,
but to light paths
no one dared walk before.
We carve names into time
with trembling hands
and unwavering hearts.

Creation is not in limbs,
but in vision.
In the breath that shapes words,
in the mind that dares to dream
even as the body folds.

But even fire,
no matter how bright,
must one day soften
into ember.
Even warriors
deserve a gentle sunset.

So when peace calls your name—
when stillness becomes the goal,
not the obstacle—
may you rest with pride,
not regret.

For the world remembers
those who chose to live
with courage,
to create in the dark,
to love in the storm.

And to my friend,
who walks with wisdom and weight,
know this:

You are not fading.
You are finishing—
and every step leaves warmth behind.

Life is made by sorrows
By sadness and despair
Life is made by memories
And words that aren't quite there

Life is wrapped in pieces
And fed to children by the spoon
Life is made by hopes and dreams
And shot far over the moon

Life is full of happiness
But overwhelmed by the pain
And life is full of moments
Like dancing in the rain

Now life can feel so simple
And then take its final toll
Before you realize the fun is over
And now you're growing old

Life will have its ups and downs
Its burdens and its dreams
Life will take its time in pain
And speed through joy like movie scenes

Life will hurt the one that lives
And praise the one who cries
But the beauty in our humanity
Is finding meaning in our lives

We're not meant to live in black in white
We're meant to learn and feel
Our thoughts and our emotions
Are the things that make us real

a candle dances and burns in a distant window
while the city beams as if the night
never needed any light.
As if the flame screams to be what illuminates
the crossroads and windows.
Bound to its wick.
A candle who wants to be a star, to join the sky all eyes find peace in.
Longing to be more but still fulfilling
it’s sad purpose.
Tears of wax, only full of potential in the dark.
The city hums an artificial tune,
the candles wails the song of your essence.
Yearning to explode in the sky though
condemned to glow in isolation.
a candle dances and burns in a distant window
to give all eyes a warm welcome.
while the city beams as if the night never needed any light.
Dreams of ignition without restraint.
Still only wax and wick.
Destined to soften, burn, melt.
Still it shows off its light.
Not because it’s seen.
But because it cannot help but glow.