To those who complain about the mundane,
It’s just your paradigm changing your fate.
I hope you realize before it’s too late,
That being miserable isn’t a fun game.

Don’t you understand that the mundane,
Will be most of your existence,
Not every day,
Is filled with endless enjoyment and stimulus.
Some days are just meh,
That’s how the game is played.
It’s such a waste of your breath,
To complain.

“I’m tired!”
So am I.
Of listening to your endless whining,
About how today’s the worst day of your life.
You’ll survive.
I swear,
You’ll be fine.
Your complaining is so degrading,
And depriving me of life.

“I don’t want to be here!”
Neither do I.
I don’t want to listen to you speak one more time.
To hear another ungrateful leave your mind.
Do you not realize how lucky you are to be alive?
Breathe, take it in,
Just don’t make me sit through it again.

“I’m bored!”
That’s good!
You’ll learn that sometimes things aren’t always as interesting,
As you think they should.
Why does the world have to entertain you?
Why can’t you just be satisfied?
Why must you spiel your discontentment?
I’ve found that can lead to resentment…

Don’t you see that the mundane,
Can be beautiful in its own way?
Those days where you have no plans,
Whatever happens happens,
And that’s okay.
The simple days,
Where things don’t feel so complicated,
Or frustrating,
Yet you find a way to keep complaining!

It makes me feel like I’m going crazy!
If you can’t beat them, join them.
But if I did,
I would go against the theme of this poem.
Complaining is such a waste of words,
And time.
Is it worth it,
To waste it,
On that?
I’d say that it isn’t.

Count your blessings.
If you can’t think of anything,
Then you better think harder.
There’s always something,
That anyone can be thankful for.
It’s feels a lot more gratifying,
Than just incessant complaining.
I’ve got my mom and my dad,
The ones who make sure my head’s ******* on just right,
Who keep me in the fight.

Don’t you ever get tired,
Of saying the same old things?
Of complaining,
About what everyone already thinks?
Are you that unoriginal,
Uninspired, and bland,
That you can’t see the beauty,
In your hands?

I hope you get a good night’s sleep,
You’ll need it,
When you find that tomorrow’s just today,
With a different name.
And I know,
You’ll complain again,
To your friends,
And they’ll do the same.
I hope when you’re older,
You’ll see,
That this life is what you make it.
No one said it was easy,
So we have to keep pushing through it.
Your complaining adds nothing,
But fuel to the fire,
If only you could see it,
If you weren’t blinded by your ire.

To those who complain about the mundane,
I know that some days,
May be filled with hate,
Or pain,
But it’s not a good aim,
To wish your life away.

People are the strangest things
This world has ever seen.
Complicated to a fault,
More than any other living being.
Think of relationships,
The way people act towards each other,
Whether platonic or romantic,
Still so complicated.

I often wonder,
What makes a friend?
So I’ve compiled a list of attributes,
I’d consider favorable.
In an attempt,
To answer this question.

A friend should be someone who cares for you,
Someone who is mutually interested in you,
Who you are, and what you do,
And long to see you grow.
A friend should understand you,
And not judge, but be compassionate.
Is that too much to ask?
A friend should love you unconditionally,
Not necessarily romantically,
For just being you.

A friend shouldn’t make you feel ignored,
Alone, or insignificant.
Friendships shouldn’t tear at the slightest push of buttons,
Of events that occurred,
Years and years ago.
Friends shouldn’t say crude things that they know aren’t true,
To demean, or hurt,
The ones they’re supposed to care about.
A friend shouldn’t use or abuse,
Physically or emotionally,
That’s for enemies.

I watch people socialize,
Mainly the ones who are considered “popular” in my eyes.
I wonder,
What do they have that I’m missing?
I see them laugh, and smile with their friends,
And wonder,
Do they care about me like this?
Is there something wrong with me?
Did I do something wrong?
How did things change so quickly?
Was it something I didn’t see?

Watching the ship burn to the waters.
The captain doesn't run away.
The ones that made me laugh,
The ones I missed over summer vacation.
Did they ever think of me?
The ones I never fitted in with,
Things never clicked.
I always felt awkward and out of place.
Am I just overthinking?
Did all this time mean anything at all?
Was it a waste,
Was it a loss?
Did we ever form a connection,
Or was it just superstition?

My mother told me that throughout high school,
She didn’t really have any friends at all.
I don’t know how she made it,
If it was me,
I know I wouldn’t.
I would feel too alone.
Though looking at it,
Perhaps I’m in the same boat.

I remember a friend I had back in first grade.
The thing that makes him so memorable to me,
Is the fact that he would lie to my face,
So effortlessly,
And I partly believed,
Thank goodness he left by second grade.

If you’ve read “My Former Friend,”
You know about a relationship,
I relished when it ended.
It wasn’t a friendship,
But a parasitic relationship.
So much discontentment,
So much resentment.
The past is the past so it’s time to move past.
If there’s anything I learned of value,
Is that some people abuse for their own benefit,
A lesson I’d have to learn at some point.

I sense a sense of strain amongst my friends.
Things feel more awkward than they ever have before.
Two and a half more years to go.
Would I change some things, if I could do it all again?
Yes.
Could things be worse than what I’m currently experiencing?
Yes.
Does that make it any easier?
No.

It’s hard watching a good thing come to an end,
Especially when it was a large fraction of your childhood.
But naivete is gone,
I’ll see it like it is,
Whether I like it or not,
It’s a sinking ship.
I’ll enjoy what time I have left,
And ride it out till the end.

A friend shouldn’t run away,
And leave you behind,
Without a warning,
Or something to clear your mind.
Just tell me that we’re done,
That you’ve moved on,
So I can move on.

Here we are,
2025.
Feels weird to say,
But it’s here to stay.
Looking at the bigger picture,
I see,
That I don’t think a single person gets me.
Perhaps, I set my expectations too high,
Perhaps frivolous tomfoolery is the norm.
I’m more of the “get things done” kind of guy.
Perhaps, I’m too hard to get to know,
Perhaps, the journey’s not worth the reward.
All people see is a character that’s mundane,
Yet hidden in the pages,
Is a creative brain,
That, to most people,
Won’t see the light of day.
I think there’s one,
Maybe two,
That’s it.
The rest I’m not sure about,
They have their friends, who occupy their time.
Yet, it’s not that I don’t want to know them,
It’s that I’m scared,
To be rejected,
In the gutter.
So, like my mother did,
All those years ago,
I’ll sit back,
And watch the world turn,
On my own.
And wonder,
If out there,
Somewhere,
There’s people who’ll care for me,
The way I wish they would.
According to probability,
It’s nearly a statistical certainty.

A friend should make you feel heard,
And loved.
So that you don’t have to write a long poem,
About what you long for.

Words,
How powerful and distinguished they can be,
But, when in the hands of the enemy,
Become slimy, coarse, static and sloppy.
The old saying goes:
“Sticks and stones may break my bones, but words will never hurt me.”
I believe that’s not the truth,
And that words can leave bruises,
Break hearts, and leave scars,
Corrode and erode,
Till there’s nothing but calamity.

How quick one is to insult another,
With not a thought on the consequences of speech.
Is it purely ignorance?
Or a lack of decency?
Morality’s gone out the window,
Only hatred remains,
Or at least that’s all it seems,
Few eyes in the overwhelming hurricane.
What happened to kindness?
What happened to peace on earth?
It seems to me, everywhere you look,
A new conflict has emerged.

Language can be so beautiful,
When presented to people who are good.
Not the ones who say the same crude words,
Over and over,
I won’t spell them out,
For they’re repulsive.
Have they little shame?
Or perhaps they don’t care?
Who they cut with their words,
As they fly through the air.
It’s sad when to insult seems standard,
And being kind is an extraordinary phenomenon.
It makes me wonder,
What planet am I living on?

My favorite,
Which means I hate it,
Is when people say a certain two words.
“**** yourself…”
How could they be so cruel!?
To wish the end of someone else’s life!
They say it so thoughtlessly,
Without a care in their ignorant, daft minds!
But they’re joking so that makes it okay!?
I think they forget that a joke is supposed to be funny!
What’s funny about wishing for somebody to die?
What sociopathic, narcissistic person,
Thinks that’s funny?
What if who they said it to was suffering?
What if what they said,
Confirmed every sickening, tragic thought,
In their head?
What if that following night,
They took the *****’s advice,
And didn’t show up at school the next day?
Would they feel ashamed?
Or would they even cry?
At the fact that their words,
Caused someone to die?

I’m not saying I’m perfect,
Farthest from it.
But I am careful to choose my words,
Before they leave my head.
Let me tell you a few truths.
Not every opinion you have needs to be shared.
Not every thought you have needs to be said.
Not every observation about someone else needs to be uttered.
Not every harsh comment needs to be spoken.
Some things are best left unsaid.
Sometimes it’s best to just stay silent.
Sometimes it’s best to remain quiet.
Because your words are weapons,
Your words are swords.
Wield them wisely,
Or are you unworthy?
To use this language,
So complex and enigmatic.

Words,
Can mean the difference between life and death,
Joy and chaos,
Love and hate,
Words carry a lot of weight.
Think about what you say,
Before those thoughts escape your brain,
Please,
The last thing we need,
Is more hate in this life.

I’ve got a few more things to say,
More thoughts have fluttered into my brain,
And even if it may be slightly trite,
I’m going to give you another piece of my mind.

How I adore the sound of rain.
Pitter-patter,
On my window at night.
However, when the rain gets on me,
I become the Wicked Witch of The West,
And start to melt.
The rain relaxes me,
Puts my ever-sprinting mind at ease.
Snuggled underneath the covers,
In my comfy bed,
Shows that even on the stormy nights,
There’s something to be thankful for.

My music taste has evolved,
As most everything else has,
I guess it was inevitable,
To broaden my horizons.
I was raised on Reba,
My mother made sure of that.
I’ll give credit where it’s due,
She’s a stunning singer,
And her songs touch the heart,
But I’ve found another,
Who, for me,
Fans the same spark.
His name is Alec Benjamin,
I’ve quoted his song in a poem once before,
Rarely can you find a musician,
Where every song you adore.
I haven’t heard every piece of art he’s created,
But from what I’ve heard,
They’re very relatable, meaningful songs,
Which are filled with impactful words.
He’s an amazing lyricist,
Who, to my knowledge, writes all his own songs,
Here’s a sample,
From a track titled “Hipocrite,”
Yes, titled just like that.

“It's hip to be a hipocrite, well, that's how it goes
Saying and portraying things, but only for show
They talk, throw rocks
Living in a mansion that they made out of glass
Always throwing tantrums, always getting a pass
All talk, they don't stop.”
And here’s the chorus:
“All these pompous fools,
With their broken rules,
And their noses in the air,
Keep pretending that they care.
All these stubborn mules,
Went to fancy schools,
But the only thing they learned to do is talk.”

Some of the music I like,
Doesn’t even have any lyrics at all.
Just a light somber melody,
To take me to serenity.
It’s in those moments,
Where my mind is clear,
That I treasure,
All I hold dear.

As much as I fear the future,
And which direction, of the countless, it could go.
I’d be lying if I said,
I wasn’t curious to see where it goes.
Where I’ll be,
Ten,
Twenty,
Thirty years from now,
Nobody knows.
On the bucket list,
Is to be invited onto a talk show.
Fate is uncertain,
That’s precisely why I fear it,
Yet, there’s a beauty to the undetermined.
Funny how that is.

I’m very impatient,
That’s a negative trait I’ll admit,
However, I understand,
That patience has its benefits.
Impulsivity leads to mistakes,
While patience leads to mastery.
Patience leads to understanding,
While impetuousness leads to travesty.
Waiting makes me feel,
That fleeting time is wasting,
We don’t have forever,
And our presence is always fading.
Yet, breathing in and out,
And taking a moment to rest,
Reconfigure, reassess,
Is the best form of reconciliation,
The body can get.

Another poem written,
A set of words said.
Another view of the world,
Hidden in my head.
Another random word,
To help me rhyme.
Another,
Piece of my mind.

I remember you,
And I know you remember me.
At least, I bet you do,
You were obsessed with me before.

When we were younger,
I thought you were quite the character.
I thought you were a nice person,
Little did I know what I was in for.

It started off small,
You would tell me how discontent you were.
I would try to cheer you up,
To no avail.
You would say that you hated yourself,
I would give you reasons that you were amazing.
We agreed to disagree.
I thought this would be temporary,
I thought it was a phase,
Yet, to my dismay,
It set the stage,
For the rest of the First through Seventh grades.

I would give you everything,
My heart and my ears,
For you just to complain,
About your pain,
Amidst the breaking of my heart.

I can’t remember what year it was,
When you showed me your scars.
When I saw what you would do to yourself,
It made me go numb.
Reality kicked in,
My mind started racing,
I was speechless,
I didn’t know what to say.

Your discontentment,
Turned into resentment,
For your life,
All you could tell me,
Every day,
Was how much you wanted to leave it all behind.
I would plead,
I would beg,
Give you reasons to hold on.
I made the mistake,
Of giving you my heart.
I would go home every night,
Afraid for your safety,
Stay up late and cry,
Wondering if you’d be back at school tomorrow.
Or if you had done what you said,
You’d do…

I started to wonder.
Was this life worth living,
If some people were so determined to throw it away?
Was it worth climbing the mountain,
And experiencing all the pain?
Is the view from the top worth the journey?
Is the hike worth the effort to walk?
I asked myself countless times,
And I came to the conclusion that I,
Think it is.

Seven years,
That’s how long I listened.
How long I let you pull me down,
With your depression.
I didn’t know how to help you,
But I just wanted you to be okay.
You said you cared about me too,
But I don’t think you did.

You began to rub off on me,
The colors had faded to a melancholic gray,
Apathy started to materialize,
And it hasn’t gone away.
You dug us both a hole,
And tried to bury us alive.
I let you have a hold on me,
The biggest mistake of my life.

One day in seventh grade,
You nearly got your wish,
I don’t know all the details,
Ignorance is bliss.
I was broken that night,
Wondering if I,
Could have done more,
Didn’t do enough,
Did I do what’s right?
Or was I hurting us both?
This wasn’t what I wanted when I met you,
All those years ago,
Being around you for seven years,
Was taking its toll.

I snapped,
I broke,
I couldn’t take it anymore.
I cried,
I prayed,
Like I had done those seven years before.
I thought,
I decided,
That it would be best.
If I,
Stepped back,
I couldn’t listen to any more discontentment.

Eight grade was hard,
I didn’t want to push you away,
But I couldn’t stand worrying,
Every single day.
I had to break the chains,
That tethered us together,
I felt like the bad guy,
But sometimes,
Even the villain of the story is justified.
It hurt my soul,
To let you go,
Because I cared,
About you.
You were my friend,
But in the end,
I don’t think it was reciprocated.
I think all I was to you was an ear,
To tell all your thoughts,
To someone willing to hear,
And while that’s fine,
I think you forgot,
That I have a life,
As well.

Ninth, high school began,
And you weren’t there,
Or at least I shut you out,
So I didn’t notice.
Ninth, was the greatest year of school,
In my life,
I felt joy,
I felt at peace,
But most of all,
I felt free.

I hope you’re doing well,
Better than you were.
However, I don’t think I want to talk with you again.
You hurt me,
You cut me deep,
I’m still repairing,
The damage you left me.
I opened my heart to you,
And you brought a hurricane,
You dug us both a hole,
And you left me to fend for myself.
I don’t know,
If I’ll ever escape,
But I’ll dig a tunnel,
And find my way.
There’s always a light,
And I believe I’ll find it,
And bask in its rays.

I wish you the best,
But I’m saying goodbye one last time.
If I’m to move on,
I have to leave you behind.
I’ll put you on a boat,
And push you off into the ocean,
And I’ll hope,
That you too find your way.
I’ll remember your name,
Etched in my brain.
I just had a few things left to say,
A few more thoughts rattling in my brain,
Even though it may have seemed impolite,
I had to give you a piece of my mind.

I remember how I used to wonder.
Was this life worth living,
If some people were so determined to throw it away?
Was it worth climbing the mountain,
And experiencing all the pain?
Is the view from the top worth the journey?
Is the hike worth the effort to walk?
I asked myself countless times,
And I still conclude,
That I,
Think it is.

Farewell,
My former friend.

A Poem By: Reece Ellison
The Immortal One sits solemnly in his favorite field of sunflowers.
He waits patiently for time to pass.
He doesn’t have to wait long,
It’s happening all around him.
He watches the people in the town below,
They work so hard all throughout their lives,
And in return they receive nothing…
Nothing at all.

The Immortal One wasn’t always immortal,
Contrary to the town folks' beliefs.
He was once a normal human just like the rest of them,
Oh, how he missed those days,
Little did he know that that was just the first phase,
Of his life that is.
Back then he had a family,
A wife and a daughter.
His memory has faded over time,
But through it all, he remembers their names,
Lydia his wife, and Luna his daughter.

Those were the simpler times,
When he would watch his daughter play in the fields of sunflowers,
The same one he lays in now.
His wife had always loved sunflowers,
That’s why he lived where he did,
He loved the smile on her face when she would look out every day.
One day he was searching the forest.
Because his daughter had not come home,
She was lost and captured by monsters,
But not for long.
He followed them into a cave,
The place where the monsters called home.
As he searched for his daughter,
He found some sort of stone.
He was entranced by its beauty,
He reached out his hand and grabbed it,
Suddenly energy and power surged through him,
And the Immortal One was born.

It didn’t take him long to find her,
The monsters were very loud.
He found her tied to a tree,
The monsters were preparing to feast.
His anger reached a breaking point,
Power surged from his veins,
In the blink of an eye, the monsters were vaporized,
And Little Luna was saved.

Before he knew it his little girl wasn’t little anymore.
His wife’s beautiful scarlet hair faded to a gray.
She was still as sweet as she always was,
All the way to her final days.
The Immortal One looked just the same.
Not much about his appearance changed.
Except his eyes looked more tired and sad,
As the truth finally sunk in.
At first, he thought that the stone was a blessing,
He saved people all around the village he lived in.
He later realized that it was a curse,
Too much power for one man to master,
And too much pain down the line.

It was a pretty summer day,
When Lydia was buried in that field which she did love.
That day it rained heavily,
He knew that it was a sign.
By that point, Little Luna had a family,
Husband Ryder, son Luke, and their daughter Emma.
They were all there on the funeral day,
Then afterward they all cried themselves to sleep.

Then in what seemed like weeks to the Immortal One,
But was actually decades,
Luna was buried beside her mom.
The Immortal One used all his anger,
And a crater in the Earth was left when he was done.
Why did he have to touch that stone?
Why did he have to watch them die?
Unfortunately, his powers couldn’t save them,
It was their destiny.
He had beaten a whole lot of monsters,
In many shapes, forms, and sizes.
At the end of the day,
His worst enemy,
Was time…

He watched as the small little village he protected,
Blossomed into a little town,
Which then turned into a city,
The place he still called home.
He still fought off monsters,
He still made sure that the people were safe,
Every night he cried,
For everything he lost.

Lydia had a little nursery rhyme,
That she would sing to Luna as a baby,
Who then passed it on to her children,
They kept the memories alive.
It went like this:
Don’t let me see those tears fall down your cheek,
It’s too beautiful outside to cry.
The sun is shining,
The sunflowers are dancing on the Earth.
Then when the Moon shines bright at night,
Tell him what troubles you.
Then close your eyes,
And bask in the somber moonlight.

All that the Immortal One could think about,
Was all that he lost.
Even though centuries had gone by,
And the world changed so much.
He still felt the pain of loss,
Deep in his heart,
His broken heart…
He sat in his favorite sunflower field,
And watched as day faded to night.
It was at that moment,
That he finally had enough,
No more suffering.
He was going to put everything to rest.
He used all of his pain,
And created a spark with the power to destroy the world,
And him.
Just one touch of that spark to the Earth,
And everything would be gone.
Flashbacks from all the memories,
All the people he met along the way.
Why did life have to be so painful?
Why did things have to end this way?
The full moon shined its bright lights,
And he was ready to finally die,
As he cried.

He felt a hand touch his shoulder,
Through the darkness, he saw a little girl’s eyes.
Looked similar to Little Luna’s
She told him “Tonight is too beautiful a night to die.”
He sensed the girl,
Was one of his descendants.
He couldn’t destroy the whole world,
At that moment he was reminded,
How beautiful nature was.
They set down into the sunflower field,
As the moonlight shone in their eyes.
It was in that moment,
Both began to sing:
Don’t let me see those tears fall down your cheek,
It’s too beautiful outside to cry.
The sun is shining,
The sunflowers are dancing on the Earth.
Then when the Moon shines bright at night,
Tell him what troubles you.
Then close your eyes,
And bask in the somber moonlight.

The Immortal One told the girl to go home to bed,
She did reluctantly but said,
“Don’t let the simple things pass you by.”
Then she left,
But the Immortal One didn’t cry.
He used the power in that spark,
And opened a doorway deep into the dark.
Through the door, he saw a whole new world,
A fresh new start.

As he went to take a step,
He told this world goodbye,
The little girl called out “Wait!”
He turned around,
And there she was,
And she had decided,
She was coming too.
The Immortal One told her no.
She had a family waiting for her to come home.
The little girl said she didn’t,
They were killed long ago.
She wanted to leave this place behind,
And go on a different adventure,
And who better to go with,
Then a protector of the world?

So with that, they both gazed through the gateway,
A whole new journey was just about to begin.
As they stepped through the portal,
The Immortal One realized he had gained a friend.

A bird sits on a limb of a tree,
Unbeknownst to the strife of human life.
Little does it know,
That tonight, a soul sleeps for the final time.

Trapped in a mental labyrinth,
Trapped with only one escape in sight.
Do you hold on?
Or do you let go before the sunlight finds you?
Tomorrow could be a better day,
But is it worth it to suffer another moment?
I’d say yes, but I’m just a naive fool,
Knowing little of the minds of so many crying eyes.

So many mental battles,
Every day another war to overcome.
Exhausting as it may be,
Every battle leaves the soul just a little bit stronger.
On the other side of the coin,
Every battle leaves the soul just a little bit more hurt.

The wind blows through the trees,
And nobody knows that the soul just wanted peace,
And nobody’s there to hold it,
All it wants is a friend, someone to help them.
But when it counts, there’s nobody around.

Every day another soul losses all hope,
And people joke about it at the slightest inconvenience,
“A test? I want to die.”
“More than one? Doubled now.”
What a inconsiderate thing to say, mocking all of the true pain,
Of all the real people who jumped off the edge.
Of all the real people who wished for their deaths.
Of all the real people who cried out for help to deaf ears.
Of all the real people who die every year.
It’s always a funny joke, until it happens,
And if you had a conscience maybe we’d stop this,
But we keep playing the same old pitiful charade.
As another soul fades away.
What will it take to stop?
What will it take to help?

I’ve often wondered about the value of life,
I had a friend who valued theirs very little.
They made sure to tell me every single day,
Until I pushed them away.
Pulled down in a hole of darkness,
I claw my way to the top to see the sunlight.
A long road but I know that it’s worth it.
I know in my soul that I won’t let go of the rope.

I found a small poem in my library book,
And it got me to wonder and think,
Did someone else succumb to their pain?
Or was this poem just a stepping stone,
On their road to happiness unknown?
You be the judge:
“I hold onto a rope.
I do not know where it leads.
But it gives me a sense of security.
Do I let go? And stand on my own?
No, for I fear of losing all hope.
So I stay and I follow.”
A tragic tale, with an ending unknown.
I just hope that wherever this person is,
They’re doing better than when they wrote this.
I pray and hope that they aren’t dead.

I often wonder what the future could’ve been,
For the souls, who lost it all.
They could’ve done great things,
Now we’ll never know.
That’s a depressing revelation,
It fills me with deep sorrow.

On the news you see people die everyday,
The tragic thing is that one starts to become numb.
That isn’t the way that the world should be, but it is.
Another struggle added to the list.

I’m not afraid to admit that I’m terrified of death,
Depending on how I’ll die.
I’m afraid of my overthinking, anxious mind,
Thinking it’s last thought, before it turns off,
And I leave this world behind.
I know where I’m going,
And deep down, it is well with my soul.
But I can’t help but worry,
About all the other souls, and where they got to go.
I pray that they found their peace,
And the Lord shows them mercy.

The worst part is that nothing skips a beat,
Things keep moving on,
Not even a moment to process, must get back to the action.
Time can be your friend, or it can make you hurt.

When my uncle died,
Things felt about the same.
He had been in a hospital for a while,
So he was already gone,
But when he died the silence felt brand new.
As for my grandparents on my dad’s side,
They died a few years apart.
There is nothing more agonizing than watching someone fade away.
The breaking of the heart is the worst kind of pain, because it stays.

It’s always so strange, how it feels like fiction.
It feels like it can’t possibly be true.
But as you wait, and listen, to the deafening silence,
You realize the truth.

A bird sits on a limb of a tree,
Unbeknownst to the strife of human life.
Little does it know,
That tonight, a soul was saved from everlasting sleep.
By his own hands,
It decided to live another day.
It loves the sunrises and the sunsets,
So it vowed to see tomorrow through.
The bird flies away,
As the world waits for tomorrow to show its face.