At first,
Time is thy enemy
stretching out with
withered hands
stealing your breath
for decades,
years,
minutes,
seconds,
until you start to panic
frantically trying to slow down
every moment,
every day,
every hour,
wheezing in
every
      last
          breath...

Until the day you realize that Time cannot be fought.
It cannot be wrestled into submission.
It cannot be captured or frozen.

It must be embraced.
Enjoyed.
Respected.

You begin to understand that time is not your enemy.
You begin to appreciate all the little moments and love the person that you've become.

Eventually,
We all realize that Time is a gift.
One that we must learn to cherish,
before it's too late.

People tell me that I have a pretty smile.
But if it's fake, does it matter?

People tell me that I am beautiful.
But inside, I am blackened and charred from years of getting burned.

People tell me that I am strong.
But I don't consider, blocking out the pain "strong".

People tell me that I am brave.
But putting on a brave face, doesn't mean I am brave on the inside.

People tell me I will go places, that I will do great things someday.
But how can I? When I barely get through today?

People think that they know who I am, they think they know ME.
But no one does, no one really knows that on the inside,

I am a child's painting.
They first add blue, then yellow, then green, and red and orange and purple.

And in the end,
its just a blob of brown,

that was once all the colors of the rainbow.

you will make it,
even if it's by the skin of
your teeth --
which will pearl
into a smile
that reaches your
endless eyes

sleep if you're exhausted
but you will rise;
energy cannot end, so
your soul
will be fine

arise, darling,
we're going to be fine

Written stories and
beautiful fairy tales,
tell of how
dusty glass panes
somehow become murals.
Of how
Muddy roads and soggy clothes
somehow become sparkling sidewalks and ballgowns.
Of how
Frogs turn to princesses how pumpkins turn to carriages.

But a what cost,

For all things come with a price
Nothing is really free.
See what you didn´t know is that Cinderella broke up with her prince
Alice got lost in wonderland and Peter Pan never went back to Neverland

So what is the point in the fairy tale?
What is the point of the happiness?
What is the point in trying,
If your world will eventually come raining down around you,
in a thousand tiny burning embers?

Is hope enough?
Hope that somehow you haven´t led yourself off a cliff
For the first time in years?

There is always that voice though,
That little tiny voice whispering in the back of your mind.
Telling you this is the biggest cliff of all.
That this time you wont be getting back up when you fall.
This time there wont be something that catches you
right before you hit the ground.

Right now,
I am just hoping
that hope is enough
to keep my world from falling apart
for the last time.