to stumble and often fall,
as you make your way along an empty road
but despite the hopeless passion of your blank
& vacant world, you’ll keep going, won’t you?

have you often dreamt of running away?
alone & staring at the walls wondering what went wrong, you’re living a life that wasn’t enough,
now realizing how quickly you were forgotten.

you must be very brave, to keep going,
when you can’t even see a destination.
you must be very brave, to remember,
when everyone else, so easily, forgot.

sometimes, when the lights are dimmed
and you can only lie there trying to dream,
you hear a low cry of someone breaking,
the sound of something ending.

even the most beautiful things feel pain,
stained with hidden memories.
even the most innocent human beings are crushed,
by a world that no longer cares.

do you want me to come back for you?
if you’ve lost your way again in those shadows,
I will bring a light of a million stars of hope,
so we can find a destination at the end of pain.

do you want me to come back for you?
if you’ve been forgotten and left behind,
I will paint a portrait of your soul
so that you will never again be lost.

a dozen gold horses
galloping around the fields.
dusk is upon,
their manes are dancing —
a strong wind in our presence

how do they not stumble?
i do.

Each step is taken                      
                                for granted.

Confident that the terrain will remain
unchanged, solid and dependable beneath
our feet, beaten down by the ones
who have walked before us,
we forget to think about
our destination, and when the
path inevitably betrays our trust,
our arrogant stride falters
as the world shifts beneath our soles.

It is no wonder that we stumble when
trying to blaze our own trail.
So, remember to be wary about
where you step on your quest
for answers.

So many scream and cry of the worst
Those people inflicting hurts that bubble and burst
Yet I’ve encountered ones who are much crueler
Who invite madness and chaos by unmeasured rulers
They are the many who never really care
Whose emotional cupboard lay blank, bleak and bare
Who raze instead raise their kids, like barbaric hordes of old
And the kids grow to be monsters that don’t even know,
That the many screams and cries that they’ve heard for years
Are derived from the neglect that nested between their ears