A found newborn becomes a lost boy.The lost boy becomes a troubled teen.

With a blink of an eye the troubled teen, legally becomes a broken man.

When was the opportunity missed to become someone different? It wasn't !

It all started long before he was capable of making any decisions, the sad truth.

But all you see now is what stands in front of you, with looks of disappointment.

The same exact image I have been forced to stare back at for many years, REFLECTION!

She keeps songs
locked away in boxes
like secrets.
She will take them out
like postcards
to help her remember
the feeling of
a different time,
a different person
by her side.
She likes the one
that makes her
eyes close
to see the lights.
She smiles at
the one that  
makes her stand
up on tiptoes,
the one that
helps her forget
she doesn’t know
what to do
with her hands.

The tune
will carry her.

Like it did
the times when
voices broke
like a heart.
When instruments’ strings
would snap
and hurt.

the surfacy front of things
is always never the truth of things
when the end comes
it will not feel like an end
later
you will remember
and weep for its loss

Better to be
than not be at all
Better to hang
than to fall
Better to be looked over
than over looked
Better to be baked
than overcooked
Better to frown
at the ground
than smile
at a falling sky
Better a toothache
than a heartache
or be found
with heart break
and die
so better to live
and to give
than take
like pancake
is better with
ice cream
than icing
on cake

Of such things
I cannot tell
The glory
of heaven or
the smoke of hell
yet of such
and much
my eyes do swell
so shut the shutters
lest the smell
rises to heaven
from the windows of hell
through the gates of God
and stink as well

This is a tale about a tale
that had no end

A tale of the tale
of what was then

It went on forever
from wherever

but none knows when