"decisiveness" poems
to my darling who feels she's not:
our separation is mere illusion.
truly, your pain strikes me as i write this;
your sensations of abandonment,
and the decisiveness they have caused,
bleed from my skin into the fibers of my clothes.
i am no longer clean.
i do not feel pure.
to my severed arm and shortened tendons:
destruction is merely another side of life.
out of disappearance comes all things-
without space, there would be nothing to contain us,
nothing to allow and enfold our beings' spirits,
and they would sputter and cease like my love's flame.
i am no longer yours.
i do not feel full.
to the farthest star that my eyes can see:
your light reaches me- i glimpse you!
in the perceived emptiness between us
there is no distance to be found;
around us exists the infinite potential for
further connection and deeper growth in closeness.
i am no longer alone.
i do not feel sorrow.
Mar 6, 2015
Mar 6, 2015 at 12:17 PM UTC
Partly darkened and part in light
A time when the stars and sun shared the sky
Bear witness to two behemoths wielding might
Impending clash foreseen to go awry
Two trains of thoughts charging from opposite ends
Each bearing their own solid ideals
Their flags that flew with conflicting brands
Convictions they carry on beaten, weary wheels
Almost an eternity, the time is soon
Seconds lasted before they finally would meet
Feeling of dread like the cloud covered moon
With war cries of whistles, they would greet
No possible way that they could miss
War waged in steeled wills and forged metals
Anticipate the moment, their couplings would kiss
Unleashing a barrage of predestined reprisals
Sheer destruction as they ate into each other
All in tow haphazardly derailed
A clash made of brute strength and power
A result of when decisiveness had failed
All was motionless save for the light of day
The two lay dead; spent currencies in coal
Fire and smoke had emerged from the fray
Signifying that the two have met their goal
Their cargo now freed, engaging in petty skirmish
Lunging and wrestling as they fought for dominance
Determination to overwhelm; never to languish
Jousting fists fueled by pent-up vengeance
Almost at end this long drawn battle
Much like a storm to be patiently ridden out
When the last of the debris should settle
Then would be lifted the dusty veil of doubt
The sun has now risen revealing the aftermath
Shedding light on the devastation incurred
Dark thoughts possess the most potent of wraths
But nothing could beat the muscle of the written word
Looking back I've realised the harm I've caused
Found great solace in the dark words I've governed
Life still hurls; it can never be paused
Just dust yourself off for you're better off enlightened
Sep 29, 2014
Sep 29, 2014 at 5:14 AM UTC
I have ability to switch style
even under pressure
Focused concentration, I am
with tenacious unpredictability
And yet fail to admit mistakes
even resist as always
Laced with external distractibility, I am
What a world......Give me strength.
I have ' killer instincts' to move mountains
even driven to pinnacle with passion
Making things happen as always, I am
even I am, less anxious in decisiveness
And yet do things my own way
rushing the poor fellow to frail
Impatience won't disappear with quietness and shyness
What a world.....Give me strength.
I step forth in dignity for low anxiety
even with meticulousness
Decisiveness for reality, I am
with sterner stuff in slippery control
And yet unable to manage time
with a hog on spotlight
Drenched in my own outbursts, I am
What a world......Give me strength.
Proud of my strength of friendliness
even with positive openness
The power to carry on with persuasiveness
even I am, yes I am in assertiveness
My strength that never dies
in the face of motivation
And yet my ears are too weak to comprehend
with sound of **********
What a world......Give me strength.
Let me be weak to be strong
and strong I am in weakness
With passion for sweetness in bitterness
And this is real in steel
The contrast and the conflict
That steers in my way of long ago
And this reality in mirage
Gives me the courage to rise above pain
What a world.....Give me strength.
Sep 1, 2014
Sep 1, 2014 at 9:00 PM UTC
I was young when my brother had an accident
By a rushing car appeared in an incident
Eyes in Tears thought of just a moment
Our life changed oh such a disorient
Forget all our differences and arguments
We prayed for days asked for lenience
Do we have a goal in life except to be pleasant?
Time goes by as we are inadvertent
In shock we find ourselves always hesitant
Unable to decide in which must be decisiveness
Wonder why our mind is mostly turbulence
How do we decide the path of correctness?
Just turn your head around and prepare for afterlife
Instead of wasting time in the temporal life
Ask God for continuous Blessing
As you’ll never know who is messing
Always remember you are the one whom is living
It’s in your hands and always your decision
Dec 29, 2013
Dec 29, 2013 at 5:16 AM UTC
Somewhere, in some unknown corner of this world,
A mother cries in agony, and is almost about to heave a sigh of relief
As out comes her little baby, into the world, outside of the one that has been
Nine months of wait, finally over, and now comes a new being, an offspring
She lies back on her bed, trying to catch her breath, wiping sweat off her brow
And just as she thinks it’s all fine, the doctor hands her the baby – a little girl
A daughter; and she is in shock looking at her, cursing the gods in their heavens
As a little pink crumpled face cries out for warmth, that she doesn’t want to give
All the dreams, hopes and aspirations fly right out the window
And nightmares come along just as quick to replace them
As she sees her past flash before her eyes, as her daughter’s future
The torture from the family, their helplessness as she grew up
Dreading the marriage, yet awaiting desperately to get her married off
Get rid of the burden that she seemed to be, tie it on someone else’s head
Saving up an entire lifetime’s worth of wealth, and giving it all away
Just so she’s accepted by another family, a wife, a daughter-in-law, a mother to be
To bear sons to her husband, as a show of her devotion, her only duty that could be
And then her mind clears of all these thoughts, and all that remains is stillness
A clarity that brings along with it decisiveness from somewhere deep within
And as she takes the little girl in her hands, eyes barely open
She twists her neck, until the baby cries no more, and the hands flail no more
And the stillness is all around, not just in her mind anymore, but also in the room
And quiet hidden tears are all that flow down her cheeks, no remorse
But a twisted sense of victory – a bud that got nipped even before blooming
Apr 11, 2012
Apr 11, 2012 at 6:59 AM UTC
I was broken, I was severely unafraid
Nothing mattered anymore
Because I had already lost
My family and my friends
And my depression was kicking in too hard
I wasn't trying, I wasn't caring enough
Love was never enough
Though there it was in overwhelming amounts
I never belonged to anyone
No one ever lived for me
And life was being suffocated from me
That emptiness within me was bruising me
How polite, how unapologetic
How fast, hurdling down, my decisiveness
I started tumbling down, without fear
Shameless, without nerves or apathy
I was brilliant in the limelight
But behind the shadows I was being swallowed
By anonymity and solitary confinement
The darkness was strangling me
I left everything I was, to reach everything
I thought I could be
Didn't I get everything I wanted?
Yeah, I thought this was the plan
But I became someone else
Other desires became attached to me
My heart changed, my mind bent, my thoughts evolved
I lost focus, in sight of love and desire
I never bothered to figure
What it meant to be happy, within me
The work was tedious, but only on the exterior
No time allotted to the dwindling interior
I was broken, I was severely unafraid
Nothing mattered anymore
I could be starving a thousand times more
I've been disillusioned many times more by banquets of contempt
Oct 12, 2012
Oct 12, 2012 at 4:47 PM UTC
A sudden flash,
lightning's cuneiform write,
on the plack of pitch dark sky;
like a truth derived from lives
*
Sudden insights,
in human nature strike unawares,
if you look around,
some times even casual look reveals.
*
Likes and dislikes drive human lives,
and civilizations thrives or bite dust,
on their merit,
they are like leaves sprouting on a plant
an act, result of the land it stands and nutrients
it receives,
what complex laws work behind it!
how would you capture the essence of this?
--meaning is elusive even if you peel
the onion, for long,
human nature defies all descernable patterns.
*
Pharova Khufu of Egypt,
wallowing in riches, all his life
(in the stories of past)
was in love with
his two boats, more than any other thing,
(one made of acecea and other from cider)
king, aimed his longing's sharp point
at this two wooden objects,
(a guy who had no problem in focusing
bless him, he deserves credit for that one decisiveness)
*
And when he died,
they thought these boats were the things
he would miss more than his wives,
what else could be possible?
they carefully laid to rest with him, these two beloveds-
Khufu with two lovely boats; his love objects,
his wish was honored
*
**Imagine a man of immense wealth
which eventually reduced to some wood,
the size of two boats,
(the symbol of futility
human life represents,)
trveling the great beyond,
with his legs, one each
on a boat.**
*
Mar 3, 2012
Mar 3, 2012 at 12:05 AM UTC
I have been bright, hovering for weeks with the edges of ovals I so narrowly believed to be bicycle wheels,
discovering good friends in places right under the windowsill, freshening up the roses
in the pots I'd forgotten about on the back porch.
and there's you, a dream perhaps,
a sliver of pecan pie left over from the holidays but increasingly fresh
I'd like to twinge the tremors in your body that make you hum
and satiate pulsing bodies in flat, parallel lines of desire and decisiveness
I'd like to be the twisting ivy on the brimming edges of tentative youth,
to scale your walls and snuggle in the safety of wonderment and lack of knowing,
any better.
I'd like to make the bluebirds sing with throats of slim-cut rubies,
to have contentment and a battle born, hand held, period of time in which
I can enjoy a piece of dessert, well deserved
Jan 14, 2013
Jan 14, 2013 at 8:51 PM UTC
Decisiveness.
Swift and unfaltering.
steady strokes
unite ink and creamy paper
to herald this new day,
new life, anew.
I collect things- mostly words
written and unspoken
they hold a certain enchantment
and I gather them into my arms, my heart
like a greedy child
on seashell spun shores
and I hope to keep them here-
eternal and youthful
like the first memory of fireworks
and hot caramel
or glowing sea waves
I stack them on shelves
in between pages
in secret corners
even whispering to the wind
and in between the sheets
I keep things
and steal some things
like sunshine, rain, a kiss
because I wanted to
maybe you wanted me too
Desire is fleeting, ephemeral and often fickle
but it is decisive in the heat of the moment
sharp as a knife,
and it cuts through my thoughts
again and again
until
maybe just until-
I run out of pretty little words to collect
leaving me no choice
but to sing it out loud
the first three words I took
I took from a single glance
a secret gaze
from an electric dance
that we started
along time ago
one that seems to go on and on
like the pounding rhythm
of erratic heartbeats.
All of it means so little,
all of it means everything
or nothing.
And until that day comes
let me lie here
alone but me and the stars
to spin those pretty little words
feel their cadence on my tongue
with my eyes closed
lie here and wait
until the last sound
of your name
escapes me
And the enchantment
complete.
Jul 29, 2013
Jul 29, 2013 at 7:22 AM UTC
we are merely children
that continue growing.
loneliness is a struggle
but so is engulfment.
to plunge into commitment
with hopes for each day to rise with opportunity
and excitement, and for each day to prove more time wasted,
brings upon an emotional sickness known as heart ache.
a lover is to not just love,
but to follow and to lead.
however my love is wandering, lost.
trapped and wondering, is this love enough?
again my heart yearns for something else than what it's given,
yet is so afraid to remove the safety of what it already has to venture anew,
where a different kind of loneliness awaits.
feeling hopeless in a hopeful time
rendering gifts of promise useless
I admit I'm not pure, that I find moments where I'm not only the prey
but hunting, and the cycle of my torment is guided by my own self.
for lack of decisiveness, and abundance of indecision.
Jan 27, 2013
Jan 27, 2013 at 6:52 PM UTC
To the self-harmers, self-haters, the loathers, the detesters,
Our homes were the hiding places of things sharp, pointy and jagged.
Things to take away the pain with more pain,
the fear with control,
the uncertainty with decisiveness.
Because we did decide,
to take ourselves apart.
Bit by bit.
Like their mutilating stares weren’t enough.
Like their toxic words didn’t burn away our innocence.
*What would you know you’re ********
You’re so fat a cow couldn’t compete with you.
Hey there *** yeah run to mommy.
Hey **** did daddy not love you enough?*
But how could they know he isn’t ********
his mind is a beauty you could never compete with.
And that fat girl hasn’t eaten a bite of solid food in eight days,
because the word beautiful has never known how to never stick to her skin.
And the *** doesn’t have a mommy to run to,
she died fighting a battle he would never wish upon anyone, not even you.
And the **** only wants to feel normal,
hoping she will if only she can carve out enough of the bits that feel different.
But if normal is you then normal is the worst thing in this world.
Normal is a bully hiding their truth behind venom.
Casting out into this world all their hatred, all their pain.
Not caring where it lands.
Whom it bruises.
Whom it kills.
The numbers are rising.
Higher than a mountain we can ever climb up to.
There are children on our streets.
We don’t look twice.
Our phones are outdated.
We worry.
What if our self isn’t enough.
Maybe these shiny coins will get us our attention.
Maybe then we will be enough.
Because the person staring back from the mirror is a friend who never was,
a stranger too familiar,
perhaps a ghost with our truths
dangling from the tips of its claws.
Worry about yourself,
because we will learn to be enough.
We already learnt to sleep on the streets.
Under the skies, near blue seas.
They said we wouldn’t make it.
But look at us succeed.
We are already enough.
More so.
So much more.
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 11:35 AM UTC
Everything became interchangeable.
Words of wisdom,
which weren't welcoming,
were washed willingly.
Only now knowing
that the definition of a "wash"
is a sensitivity.
An appropriate metaphor
would have been a description
of an undertow; hands over feet,
because a cartwheel is superfluous
underwater.
It's interchangeable.
The fact that the
white whale can
signify the tepid tactic
of the once sought
suitable soul.
It's tangible.
The decisiveness of another party.
A warm body to lay beside.
Another to lift the veil.
To speak love and hate
with full confidence.
Understanding that love and hate
is reachable.
Aloof to the fact that
you are
the love and hate.
It's manageable.
Although, *******
teeth has become customary,
the prospect of ******* face"
still lingers.
It's only until the lack of movement
with fingers...
It's the lack of *******
But, it's manageable?
It's interchangeable.
It's knowing that what was
sought after was temporary,
that a sealed kiss will
eventually lead to an
opened envelope.
Then after time has taken its course,
you will be inside of another,
and another will be inside of her,
but the difference isn't the physicality.
It's the emotion that kills you.
Mar 15, 2013
Mar 15, 2013 at 2:11 AM UTC
•••
"on some days, I love you more than others,"
an early morning uh oh
IROLO
(instantly regretted out loud observation),
of the potentially ruinous kind,
spoken with malice towards none,
*and obviously,
no forethought,*
firmly but modestly muttered
over the modestly rumpled
courtroom battlefield
of sheets, newsprint, mugs
and Bocelli on low
smockingly,
(a slow spreading smile of mock),
she turns her gaze upon
the presumed guilty, querulous,
soon-to-be-ruined ruminator (me),
and asks with
disdainful derisive decisiveness
is your first cuppa too hot darling?
has your uncommon sense of non-sense been burnt?
t'is true I reply,
I feel the burn!
for am I not sworn
to tell the whole heated truth
and nothing but?
my love for you is simply
a mathematical additive,
progression series
every new day I love you
is forever
a mighty mite more
than the prior,
a smudged smidge of a penciled line,
taller than the
higher higher notated
upon ancient yesterday's doorpost
ergo,
ip so factoid,
and therefore,
by definition
on some days I love you more than others
•••
p.s. never have conversations like this in the presence of within-reach newspapers,
for they be
easy rolled and revised
into fearsome weaponry,
suitably for handy smacking"*
Feb 6, 2016
Feb 6, 2016 at 4:46 PM UTC
Sometimes it's okay to be wrong.
It's okay to not be
The smartest,
The funniest,
The most well-adjusted.
It's okay to be
Broken,
Hurt,
Sad.
Because it's not about how you are now
But about where you're going to go next.
Life is about
Nothing and everything;
Decisiveness and indecision;
Stagnating and flying.
It's about how everything is possible.
Everything.
So if you're
Broken,
Sad,
Or hurt,
You can be
Fixed,
Happy,
Whole.
It might not be easy.
There might be days you think you walked down the wrong path.
But you didn't.
Because every path is the right path.
Because every path is the path you need to be on
To be here.
To be you.
And you are pretty special.
More than anything,
You are special to me.
Jul 13, 2015
Jul 13, 2015 at 10:53 AM UTC
i am in love with you
in the worst way
creeping thoughts that
tell me it's over loom in
crevices and corners no
matter how bright
the sun shines
every moment i'd like a
hand in mine, it's yours
i picture and then it's gone,
one ****** digit at a time,
til i'm left with nothing
but a dripping stump
i write you with depth
and decisiveness, but you
want none of it and
for some reason, i am
not deterred
i will hang from spanish
moss and bide my time
amongst cicadas as leaves
fall and seasons crawl on,
i will wait until these bugs
breathe life into this earth
again and again and again
this cannot be it,
because i love you,
even if it's in the worst way,
i just wish that you could
see how big this love is
without my wearisome words
Jan 8, 2013
Jan 8, 2013 at 1:27 AM UTC
in every moment
a world is created
a novel is written in the mind
then burned as excess memory
every bitterness is sweet
every taste is reassessed
to match the perfect vowel
with the perfect tempo
held in the hand
and squeezed until there's nothing but pulp
every black becomes white
and every white becomes fever
and any gray is obliterated,
sifted, recreated, grown to full maturity
until it dies from its own heart exploding
with decisiveness and guilt and sorrow
and whatever word is stronger than euphoria
in every moment, a life is saved,
then lost,
then saved again.
Jan 30, 2010
Jan 30, 2010 at 1:00 PM UTC
*I lay, of my own volition, in a space meant for her:
a confined and achromatic scene.
My hands, malodorous, muddy and splintered,
leisurely rest on my chest, free from labor machines.
Here I rest, hackneyed and discouraged
in a pitifully human attempt to simulate death
I curse my virtue; it chastises back as it
mourns the curious exploitation of my health.
It was meant to last only a minute,
as sorrow chains my putrid despair in place.
Yet I, to this day, cannot begin to explain
how the darkness manifested itself a face.
I attempted to strike a movement but remained still
as the daemon began to smile.
The plan was to endure without oxygen for seconds,
yet the creature stayed my conscience for a while.
In a surprising and trepid consternation,
I find myself in service to mendicancy.
The creature, a devil with venetian red oculi,
salivates at its newest and prized delicacy.
I cry at the fleeting mastery of my faculty,
yet the tears remain inattentive and departed.
Time blesses the creature with a dominant sentence
as reality registers a dialog that I had started.
“Where is my daughter? I demand to know.”
The creature’s smile grows ever wider.
He then takes the form of the stuffed turtle toy
that used to sleep right beside her.
The creature, in a droning and unmelodious voice,
utters a perplexing, yet commanding noise:*
“ATIV ARETLA NI MAN ES ED OLEF”
*Frightened yet discouraged, I aim to find the sense
in the puzzling command the creature produced.
“She’s been missing for days! I need to know where she is!”
The beast speaks again, letting its anger loose:*
“FELO DE SE NAM IN ALTERA VITA!!”
*Suddenly, albeit boundlessly, the stillness was lifted,
and my structure was free from this tenebrous stead.
I raise myself and clasp at the summit’s precipice
after having danced with a beast in this wooden bed.
The vacant coffin remained pristine,
fitted with natural calico cotton lining.
The devil you fear the most is the one you create
and mine emerged with impeccable timing.
The creature’s malevolent ballad persistently tattles
as The Lapse rebroadcasts the “truth” it wanted to utter.
It had told me, “Become a felon of oneself,
and thine own life shall be traded for another.”
I refuse to concur with the creature’s decisiveness
as my unyielding faith will ensure my daughter’s return.
Her weighty and boundless absence must cease
and lead to the terminus of my inexhaustible concern.*
Jan 25, 2018
Jan 25, 2018 at 6:57 PM UTC
Like a wild-bush,
Frenzied on growing,
My empirical designation,
Of self-implosion
Falls like Berlin walls,
And Stalin statues,
I wonder if the night can see like me,
Or if the daunting blue figurines of my watch,
Dance like the dozy white flakes of a cold winter storm,
In the midsts of battle we learn decisiveness and impending insanity,
Summer heat brings showers of agony and glimpses of pleasure,
Like fleeing from some unearthed Hell we forged ourselves in,
The Earth she moans to the dark strands of nowhere,
"Please take me home." She cries
Jul 8, 2015
Jul 8, 2015 at 12:04 AM UTC
there must be an infinite space beside you,
because in my unboundedness,
i found my place at your side.
right there in the crook of your arm,
i fit perfectly,
as if a spoon
that is firmly held in place
at the corner of a bowl,
as if the very hollow
around you
was meant exactly for me.
i never believed in destiny,
for i am a firm advocate
of choice, of free will.
but somehow,
with me snuggled
close to your heart,
i can somehow believe
i am fated to choose you.
they would ask
where my decisiveness comes from,
where my certainty about you
is rooted on,
and i would look up
and ask the stars the same question.
perhaps it’s in the curls of your mane
that i loved to rustle
with my fingers,
or your hands
that can engulf mine so easily,
or your arms
that can envelope my being,
or your eyes
that know what i need,
or your lips
that whisper endearments so sweet.
i really can’t say,
except that i know.
i know in my heart
that i chose you,
that i value the choices i make,
and i value you
as amongst my most prized decisions.
for j.e.
111114
Nov 11, 2014
Nov 11, 2014 at 12:56 AM UTC
Sometimes we are a foggy day
a brindled mist that hangs like a beaded curtain
across the doorway of the altered bikers from down the street
and walking through us requires a
machete of caution and silence and
a flashlight of sixty-percent honesty
Sometimes we are a Thanksgiving break
a respite from the weight of responsibility and
a monster dustbunny of anticipation that tumbles from
beneath the bed requiring
a broom of clarity and Potter-esque frenzy and
a damp paper towel of decisiveness.
Sometimes we are a banana
Spring-green on the precipice of perfection
only to tumble into the ravine of
only good for banana bread or compost
a sliceable bite of tropical gratitude and
a sticky sweet batter of hostage taking.
Sometimes, not often enough,
I reflect upon the void you fill which
I never imagined existed until it was filled
like concrete between flagstones
Grand Canyons made plateaus by
a surprise and a sigh and a homecoming.
Aug 21, 2014
Aug 21, 2014 at 11:46 AM UTC
He drew designs of passion on my naked flesh with his fingertips
the rythym slow and winding delicately, pensively around the tightly wound delicate-est parts of me.
It was as if he were tracing every line, every beauty every imperfection that was my essence in physicality, and on occasion he looked deep into my eyes for further permissions to which I could not answer held hostage by his touch and my indelicate wanting.
The bottom of my lip curled up in a tooth nip constrained the torrernt of love words that threatened to pour from my mouth, breath doing its best to find regulation and all I wanted was to be lost in His adoring admiration floating anywhere in his abyss contented just to stare at his unorthodox beauty, fashioned by his strength and decisiveness and above all the way his soul knew mine.
It was a separation unbearable made more so, by the powerful burning longing ignited by his feathery touch. caught somewhere between sweet Nirvana and torturous Hades; not sure which toe was dipped in which? These were fleeting thoughts that brought me through my confusion and closer to the clarity of madness. Eyes now intent on discovering him, devouing him with each twist and turn of his strong limbs. my fingertips begining to free themselves from thier trance, reach hesitantly when finally touched its destination a gasping pleasure realsed its self from his throat as i slowly realise my touch equally burning my own design trails of longing fire. He threatened to lose control of, breathing love and fire passion as the lines of desire's designs brought fourth an achictectural beauty that ochestrated prisimic baptismal fire that no other could have pervaded; and the words written in the burning flesh had no name just symbols, traced over and over again still not enough to capture meaning. It was all we had but it was enough to sign our love endless to the ages of ages.
some say there is a word that comes so close though many more words are missing, forgotten but still felt penultimate erotismiagapea the unity of all things designed to be craved by love.
Jun 26, 2014
Jun 26, 2014 at 7:02 PM UTC
these few presidents
wring disaster from decisiveness
like they're squeezing tar from a sponge.
three heads of state
and not a single solution
except the one that dissolves whatever it touches.
billy the kid, did what he did and he
died. billy the kid, did what he did
and he died. billy the kid did what
he died. billy the kid did what he
did and he died.
nothing
to
help
before
he
left
Aug 27, 2017
Aug 27, 2017 at 4:05 AM UTC
Our lips sealed, a kiss
The airport commotion
The notion of distance
The motions separating
The oceans disengaged
Impeding progressions
Enlightened lightening
The fading phone calls
Evicted complications
Bouncing frequencies
I float in dreams a high
Sandwiched decisiveness
The bubbled head pangs
The battered heart hang
My littered sight fanged
Banged and wrung
A declined mass rolling
Angling insanity hurts
Fighting gyrating posterity
Jan 13, 2016
Jan 13, 2016 at 4:27 PM UTC
Aspirations become crushed by life,
As the will to succeed hits a brick wall.
Hopelessness transpires through devastation,
Emerging a fractured outlook about fate.
When the dream becomes broken,
Promise is always an option.
By climbing out of that hole,
Hope is a possible task.
If greatness can’t be fully restored,
Alternatives can be proclaimed with honor.
Whatever course destiny’s tale will tell,
Success can win through decisiveness.
Apr 5, 2017
Apr 5, 2017 at 5:58 AM UTC