Those days that seem to last forever are a blessing, from a conservation of time perspective

Most people think of me as comic relief, but deep deep down I know they think of me as comic relief

i must apologize for sharing my thoughts, assuming you give a ****

hold an acorn and see the majestic oak
hold a newborn and see a miracle
hold hate and see hell on earth
hold love and forgiveness and see peace
hold money and see greed
hold kindness and see it multiplied
hold a dream and see your future

the artist has no choice
the heart has no choice
the thought has no choice
the words have no choice
the pain has no choice
it must be said
at all cost

If a poem falls in the forest and nobody is there to read it, does it make a thought

Where do things unsaid go, are they part of the ether, if so, probably the largest part for sure