i have spent days hiding in shadows
closets, behind stacks of boxes, where
light only comes in when someone remembers
something that they've forgotten--

i crave that 25 percent of sunshine, of
being told "you're alright" or if i'm lucky,
"you're not bad to be around" because then
i know that sitting in the dark was worth it.

i keep a mantra in my head--
broken toys get fixed. broken toys get found.
broken toys get loved just as much as if they weren't broken.
i repeat it over and over and over, waiting for that crack of light.

There was an Old Man of Quebec,
A beetle ran over his neck;
But he cried, 'With a needle,
I'll slay you, O beadle!'
That angry Old Man of Quebec.

It's okay
If your hand gets tired of holding mine
It's okay
If your fingers let go and decide to draw the line
It's okay
If your nails dig deep into my skin
If they leave scars on my hand when you finally say goodbye

Because atleast I'll have the scars
To remember you by

If you could see yourself
For just one second
Through my eyes
You would love
Yourself for
Eternity

and she realized
house is a place
and home is the person

In the garden of life
We have flowers and treat them well
But in the end they always wither
So enjoy every drop watered
Each ray of sunshine
Each day
Every hour
Every second
Because as this flower withers
Only memories will remain