"unmovable" poems
i'm not showering any
more frequently than
i typically do
but every time i step in
that bathtub i swear
a whole day goes by
the water falling
turns into soft
concrete
and the drain
stops up and
i'm standing
ankle deep in
a brand new
sidewalk
soap suds running down
my legs and pooling
upon an unwalked path
and heaven only knows
how long before it all cracks
and i'm free.
Jul 29, 2016
Jul 29, 2016 at 10:59 AM UTC
As a young girl I was always expected to do as I was told.
Don’t be too loud, don’t talk back, don’t appear to be sassy or bold.
Mind your manners, hold your tongue, there is no space for being rude.
Tone it down, cover it up, we don’t want your black girl attitude.
Forced into boxes with no space to move.
Restricted and restrained with everything to prove.
Constantly combatting the narrative they paint.
Making us look like animals while they look like saints.
We are said to be angry, bitter and loud.
Troublesome, uneducated, following the crowd.
Masculine, impute, stubborn and broken.
Accessories, trophies that ”one” friend, the token.
These strings of disrespect will no longer be allowed.
I don’t care if I’m not polished enough, I’m unwilling to be cowed.
Take back your subtle hate and blatant prejudices all wrapped up in a bow.
Served on a platter with fluffy words of disapproval and the saying “that’s just the way things go”.
They say we are stubborn, unmovable and complacent.
Well , consider how our feelings are always compartmentalized and latent.
Our cries go unheard, our request are unmet.
No one to protect us, left on our own to fret.
This debt that we carry is too much to bare.
It’s just as heavy as the onus that we all have to share.
We are ethereal, complex and fed up with your satire.
You can have whatever you think of me, I’m done being your Sapphire.
Nov 10, 2022
Nov 10, 2022 at 2:19 AM UTC
There is a pressure just behind my ribs
That crushes me, yet I cannot shake it
Unmovable. Untouchable. Incurable.
On my lungs and heart, the weight of it sits.
What does this pressure pull me to?
Why does it threaten me with death?
Unknown. Uncharted. Insatiable.
It will not move until I've taken my last breath.
This is what it is to yearn
What it is to grasp with the soul.
This is what it is to burn
To ignite as desperation takes hold.
I crave this thing I don't know
It pulls at me day and night
Like an addiction, I need it frequently
Lest the anxiety, the panic, should strike.
But it is not a thing, it is a person, in plural
So very far outside my league, urban versus rural
This is not even remotely healthy, but I can't turn
From day to night, from sun to moon, I yearn.
Apr 30, 2014
Apr 30, 2014 at 10:38 PM UTC
My Journey
once young i believed of a world made of ice-cream and chocolates
i believed in air castles
i dreamed of the tooth fairy
friends was best friend forever for life
long hair was important, weight unimportant
dad and mum was super heroes
the world was at my feet waiting to be conquered
volcano's erupted
wars came and went
people died and were born
poverty came and went
governments changed
i grew up, the chocolate and ice cream melted
i woke up in a sticky mess
what happened
i forget the most important ingredient of all
god my father, my keeper, my salvation and joy
as it all came crashing down and storms whirled he held my hand
even when i questioned my creator and accused him of doing a bad job
his love and dedication never wavered
thank heaven for that mercy
i've searched my life time for unmovable inner peace and joy
though i was a bad made when i could not find it
now i know
money cant buy
only god the father can lead you to it
only the father can restore my air castles, my world of ice-cream, chocolates, cappuccino and balloons
i left he tooth fairy behind
i was blessed with new better friends
and my super hero's was re employed :)
i am truly living my dream without the crowd, competitiveness, chaos and speed of modern life
the future awaits
my captain is at the helm
what more can a girl ask for
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 5:38 AM UTC
Fluctuating back and forth on the idea of how to relieve
The theme of cynicism throughout your life;
Tough like nails: too stubborn to let go of whatever
They were hammered into; the hits we take
Make us unstable and unmovable from certain aspects.
You chose to Stitch your eyes up
With a thin piece of cynical string and a metal needle.
Threading the idea of light and dark in each vessel,
Causing your body parts to glow and show
Off the direction of ideas, in out and down,
But never up, for the sake of falling for the
Instinctual trust and hope humans so conveniently thrive for.
Conquered and obtained the conflict from your child
Hood, fluctuating on the idea of morally right
And morally wrong. Cough, cough, cough. Right
Lung punctured by stale smoke, your lips twitch in
The environment. Blood swells in your veins, forget
That women’s ******* are to feed her children.
Wipe the grin off the old man whose sipping warm
Whiskey, tell him his wife is six feet under and partying
With the demons he drove her to acquire.
Like water, you are the universal solvent
Cleaning, clearing, conquering and
Creating a new symbiosis with human beings and
The world they are submerged in; We take it for granted.
Cynicism in brevity, is beautiful for the fact that it claims to be
Open and calm like ocean waves during low tide
Or a baby child’s gaggle and coo. Fluctuating between calm
And ignorant, more so unintentionally rational to the point
Of tearing your human anatomy apart and dipping the
Soon to be suffocated air in heavy smoke.
I’m afraid
Humans just can’t handle the **** truth of reality.
Nov 12, 2012
Nov 12, 2012 at 6:23 PM UTC
With special thanks to George Ella Lyon
I am from crumbling brick
(red, dusty, smelling of musk).
I am from aluminum siding
and triple-deckers,
tall, strong, unmovable.
Hailing from the city on about seventy hills.
From Grandfathers and photo albums,
cigar ash salad and pinecone wars.
From "use your imagination" and "go play in the street".
I am from a whirlwind of faith,
belief from non-believers.
From schoolyards, playgrounds, and crawlspaces
come these faces, and these memories
are worth more to me, than anything.
Sep 22, 2010
Sep 22, 2010 at 7:02 PM UTC
Why should you limit yourself to being just pretty?
Don't be just pretty.
Be a storm, beautiful, dark, intelligence flashing across your eyes like lightning and a voice as loud as thunder. Be a storm and never be silent.
Be a forest, rooted, wise, strong and unmovable in the force of opposition and yet a dancer in the wind. Be a forest, and loyal to your land.
Be the ocean, glittering, mysterious, captivating thousands of hearts and countless lives in your allure. Be the ocean, and be ruthless.
Be nature. I guarantee nothing will get you farther.
Nov 19, 2017
Nov 19, 2017 at 7:24 PM UTC
I am water I am no friend
I am no foe
I do not die I do not live
They fear me they adore me in the same hearts of passion.
I would not boost about my purity I will not rejoice bout my power.
My deepest depths are dark and hidden who dare to go there or beyond.
Consistency and balance though is not my virtue.
I heed to a few laws to head my flow.
It can not change learn them my princess then see me again and understand. Who am I to teach you seeing all your fury and might.
I would wash and gently break down over time even the hardest of stone till all remains is powder
And dust.
I am naked they see through me they trust me enough to live in me.
Sometimes even I bring death and life my methods always changing.
They live because of me they die because of me
I filled up many sees because of the tears they cried for the death I brought.
They yearn for me and cry for me I don’t have to tell them anything their fathers learned from me all to be said in the beginning of ages before time.
I am everywhere always changing and moving. My children are born in the morning due my fathers stand unmovable in north and south of the poles of this world.
If you try and control me if you try to hold me make sure you have no cracks in the frame I love to serve you
I love to embrace but the smallest of cracks causes me to break in with power and might
who can then stand in my way
My anger always dies down I always return to tranquility only to wait again in rivers of peace for my new master.
Jul 7, 2017
Jul 7, 2017 at 5:23 AM UTC
There must be a scapegoat, a faceless soul we can blame
when events unfolding never crease the right way
there needs to someone to take the fall
for our shortcomings, failures, mistakes and flaws
let's name it timing
the outlandish ideal with a sort of silver lining
benefiting our dreams or disappointing based on your outlook at the second
placing our losses on timing's plate, so to us it remains indebted
the divine invention we haphazardly sink our faith towards
faulting opportunity for not opening closed doors
falsely accusing an innocent occurrence with words of curse in nature
we'll just chalk it up to poor timing, and bury it for later
the concept of allowing an unmovable force dictate our actions
selfishly choosing when the timing suits our satisfaction
poor timing, missing the chance of a unmatchable proportions
minimal effort to a particular cause turned twisted words contortions
to cleverly claim the culprit, when your very actions displayed a lack of determination
it's not the moment's patience
that forces your will to put the act in motion
yet we chalk it up to timing, a peculiar notion
a cloak of deceit and disbelief we wrap ourselves in, blaming an unworthy malefactor innocent as the sun is bright
so let's just call it poor timing, leaving our passion-less actions out of sight...
Feb 10, 2013
Feb 10, 2013 at 11:54 PM UTC
Red,
Stinging,
Peeling,
Flaky,
Dry.
It’s skin reborn.
Hard,
Unmovable,
Hot,
Painful.
A curse from the sky.
Irritating blotches
And the itchiness within
Make me cranky
As if boiling my own skin.
Oct 4, 2013
Oct 4, 2013 at 8:38 AM UTC
I can stick a gun in my mouth and it will jam. I can cut myself and miss. If I set myself on fire; it will rain to put me out. I can work up an appetite and not eat. If I stick my face to the wind; I won’t burn my skin. The world spins and I stay still. I can hear bombs from miles and crush rocks to sand. Give life to what is dead. I can move a hill to mountains’ domain and they won’t argue. I can throw the world into chaos and be praised. When I sit long enough; it is art. A mind can be set for this outcome. A person can image great future and greed. We have this power to march for one. We have this power to march for all. An unmovable object walks into a room. Does the room move with it? Or does it still stay? An unstoppable object steps on dry land. Does it crack? Or does it stay together? We are not malleable for a reason. But we can be broken with such few spaces. Such small and uneasy movements from across the world. It can be miles; but next to us. It’s impossible to march if no one knows how to dance. To waltz into trouble is easier than a solution’s dream. It is elegant and depressing as the same. We can compare scars but stay clothed and masked for others. We sometimes don’t miss when we cut. Sometimes the gun goes off. When a fire burns; it won’t be put out quick enough. This is real. This is life. But words mean more. Word mean more than actions because words are forever. A page can be lost and found. Paper can be cut and burned. But it’s still there in the mind of the writer. It’s still there in the mind of the poet. We as humans have the ability to move the hills. Move the world. But we care to not join. We, as many others, keep straight. We fall into the lines given ease. Giving the ease a way into the mindset of strength. Too much hate. Too much greed. Too much misunderstood points and confusion. We want to identify as something else to make us special. We want to be different than the person better than us. We worry about who said this and what they had done today. We look at horrifying things all day and change a picture to match it. We are numb. We are ignorant. We are invincible. And that’s sad.
Nov 6, 2017
Nov 6, 2017 at 10:55 AM UTC
It's as if my body were the ocean.
Eyes of constellation,
I wonder
what it was like
the first time you
were so in love
It hurt.
Did you bend an break
at your bough?
a shipwreck more beautiful
because unmovable
and your blue skies clouded
Some beautiful substance, you are.
Sometimes it's a burden.
Others, it's poetry
Jan 29, 2015
Jan 29, 2015 at 8:27 PM UTC
Unmovable Unchangeable
A worthiness a standard is deposited in your inner being all other elements in life will ebb and flow but
Your essence will be darkened by sorrow but from this tragedy and sorrow riches will tower a streaming
Blessedness will flow it will instantly engage another who has just suffered loss seen unseen words and
Actions will with the deftest touch a kindness soaked in mellowness will be communicated in silence to
The heart who has just suffered the bitter harvest of sorrow the gripping real a special irreplaceable
Someone has departed to walk on a different plane for them purest light your circumstance darkest
sorrow cold as Everest you are left ripped not only of all outward cover but inward has there ever been
Such savage destruction the healthy norm now ravaged the spiritual heart ripped apart it was complete
It was formed by love alone no other sculptor is more honered to work with such substance he makes
Their face those eyes the transfiguring part of human connection truly souls merge together here in this
Special stream vision multifaceted feelings weighted the heavier the deeper the depths where
Emotional ties are created from pleasures these springs of the heart you come in emptiness you leave
With these volumes ballooned ever stirring thoughts the very impulses that make them the person you
Know this feed of expressions do they not cause an unending joy that spills at different times sometimes
Just a slow pleasant entailing then at other times a roar of engulfing and at times it happens when your
Tide is low they instinctively trigger this from their register of mercy a unity that is boundless truly you
Have small oceans within I see it in the workaday world but like the song behind closed doors magic
Fire you reach heavenly heights explorers rewarded in human feeling that can’t be bought and are never
Sold truly kings and queen of a great domain in the hidden soul you have truly roped the wind and
Touched stars as you hovered under them holding hands who can doubt God when you exhibit his very
Essence through the love you found and it causes unfathomable assurances holding hands is the same
As a great dam holding water but yours is holding never ending love
Oct 5, 2012
Oct 5, 2012 at 12:13 AM UTC
The transgressions of utter here and nowity
Unbeleivable longing for a collapsing norm
On the altar of self destruction and causal
Reciprocity fluttering on rebirthed dreams
You can sing and love these colorful birds
Vibritang meticulously with rare palpitations
Of greater bodies, which dust is a part of us
Delusional creatures, flying on the grandeur
Non reachable to written words, stellar ink is
Spilled, playing on the shores of ever returning
Waves of transformation; Shapes dance within
Your gaze, telling the story of water coy stillness
Unmovable we move on, unlovable we love hope
Clinging to tree roots and blood veins as clothes
Warm our trembling fragile figures travelling on
And on into the higher realms of transfiguration.
Apr 26, 2015
Apr 26, 2015 at 5:09 AM UTC
This ship has set sail
With a crew of fifty good men
And twenty heavily coated dogs
Over half the crew will be dead
By the time we reach our destination
On this secret government expedition
Journey to the bottom of the world
To find the Southern Pole
The wind blows us where no life lives
But the bitter cold
From North America
Past the southern tip of Argentina
Harbored at the Falkland Islands
For our last taste of civilization
Six months
Or maybe it was a year or more at sea
To the icy shores of another planet
Encased in endless days of darkness
The ship became marooned
In frozen oceanic tundra
For many winter nights
We the crew chiseled, shoveled
And pick-axed our way to break free
Of our prison made from solid crystal air
Finally unyielding land ahead
An unmovable iceberg
We dock and unload
Steady our sea legs to skis and sleds
The dogs take off across this untraveled land
Pulling us in tow
Faster against the frigid wind
Than our own frostbitten limbs would allow
Ninety degrees south latitude lies somewhere ahead
Blanketed in fresh snowfall and ice storms
Supplies and moral run low as this weary travel continues on
Shaded in zero visibility we set camp for the night
Harbored against the soulless chill
In a frozen crevice of ice mountain
Our health deteriorated and the dogs drained
Polar sleep sets in
The arctic wind chills us to the bone
And my cold eyes close
Sep 24, 2011
Sep 24, 2011 at 7:28 AM UTC
Is it indubitably unsuitable
to be suitably incommunicable
on the undeducible deduction
dubitably deduced
to be immovably unmovable
or doably undoable?
Or can a crazy conundrum communicate
the incommunicable indubitabilty
of the undeducibly suitable deduction?
Simply said,
such is doably suitable,
or indubitably deducible
if the doably communicable deduction
deduces down
to the suitably suitable,
Movably reducible reduction
that's indubitably doable.
Nov 30, 2015
Nov 30, 2015 at 8:29 AM UTC
A harsh wind is blowing
Whistling and shrieking down
The peeks and ridges of our collective anxiety
Only live, only hope
I look at you often
Stare into the corners of your eyes and I catch
The tears that shine there
I examine your fingers wrapped
Over and around mine
The thumb that I labeled perfect
My own little spiders tucked under
The warm shelter of your solid bones.
We are two, you and I, but really we are one.
Farther than the sun
Way past the reaches of stars.
Deeper than the ocean.
You sink into my heart and I try to commit your face to a memory that can only exist while there is a vessel.
But no matter the Galaxy Path I am destined to take
The string remains.
This love Is Unmovable.
Apr 15, 2018
Apr 15, 2018 at 8:12 AM UTC
You taught me to follow my fate,
You taught me to take the risk and the bait.
You taught me to be strong,
You taught me to never be wrong.
You taught me to feel love,
You taught me to fly free like a dove.
You taught me about truth,
You taught me that in life, there is no ruth.
You taught me to keep fighting for my belief,
You taught me to keep away from relief.
You taught me to fight,
And you taught me what is right.
You were right, this whole time,
You were right, life beats to its rhyme.
You were right, and they were wrong,
You were right, that I was strong.
You were right, that I was beautiful,
You were right, that my stubbornness was unmovable.
You were right, as I will always honor you,
You were right, I believe in you too.
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 12:28 AM UTC
A mountain, a range
Carved from
everlasting ages
Did not crumble or wilt
to sand as it shook
from under my feet.
The granite face stood
Like statues
To manifesting
Into the space
around it.
Reminding me, that as weak
As I feel,
Inside of me
is a similar Persistence
Unmovable
From the capricious whim
of man and imbecilic masses who follow.
I will seize your sharp shank from excavators
trying to make me into something I am not.
A woman with equal
rights in the same air
you breathe
With dignity far beyond your pompous attempts
to roil this
robust range
down.
Your facade will crumble
when the mirror knocks
at your midnight door.
Here,
look at yourself.
Apr 13, 2024
Apr 13, 2024 at 10:50 AM UTC
A castle door, guarded by no one
A giant padlock fastened around the ****
I pull with all the strength I can muster
Nothing moves
I try again, slamming myself at the unmovable door
Nothing moves
"Maybe it is me" I say
"Maybe it is the weather, or the position of the sun on the horizon that makes this door unmovable"
I back away from the gate to see a beam of light emerge from the tallest tower
The most guarded
This gives me hope
If only I could burst through the gate, I could welcome the gatekeeper with open arms
We could be joyous
And, together, enjoy the limited eternalness of our youth
So I attempt again, and this time the door swings open with a thud
Under my new found strength
I step inside, expecting to see a lush landscape
And my beloved
However, he is no where to be found
And the courtyard is barren
While I search for my gatekeeper I find his study
Filled with books and books of the struggles of his life
But no book containing the answers to his problems
This makes my heart drop as I learn of my gatekeeper's difficult life
With tears in my eyes, I push on to find him
I search in every corridor
Until I find the tower entrance
And embark on the rickety, unkempt staircase to reach him
I find him huddled in a corner
His eyes, red and tiresome from worry
As soon as my gatekeeper sees me
He falls into my arms
And we wept
We wept for the things lost
The things hidden
The things that have past
And the uncertain things to come
For we have no notion of the things to come
But we can live in this moment together from now on
Mar 2, 2014
Mar 2, 2014 at 11:21 PM UTC
It was pulling me in
My escape was not a choice,
As I came to close to this
"Black hole"
Its gravitational pull
Unstoppable,
Unmovable,
Attraction,
Was pulling me further in
I was on the event horizon
Skimming the beats that
Were pulling me ever further
Nothing could escape
Feelings,
Emotions,
Love,
Were being pulled to the centre
It was something that I did not
"Expect"
It was consuming my
"Heart"
I couldn't escape that which pulled
At every heart string
I was lost the moment I had
Entered this event horizon of love
It took me in whole
Mind,
Heart,
&
Soul,
Now I am consumed in this
Red Heart of love, I was lost
But know found consumed by love.
Oct 19, 2014
Oct 19, 2014 at 12:19 PM UTC
And you get to witness the destruction of mankind
The manifestation of violence
The rise of crime
The chemically induced joy that deteriorates the mind
The cancerous legions on the soul that no doctor can find
The shaman surgeon with the power to freeze time
The emotionally famished family that uncle sam left behind
The monotonous chime that causes the suits and ties to burst into reanimation
The unmovable path of the bullet that kills without hesitation
The murderous gang-banger dining in hells kitchen with no reservation
The chains that bound the vagabond with no visitations
The gruesome violence on the silver-screen that is met with joyous elation
The exchange of video entertainment for a basic education
The deterioration of the young minds that's given little concentration
The beautiful flesh but empty soul that makes a living through fornication
The ****** spoils of war that leads to mental devastation
The death of good-will with no justification
And you will not witness death but morale genocide
Not of a specific person, but of certain values that are impossible to hide
And with only one man to confide, they will continuously choose what is not right
They will put down their crucifixes so they will have more hands to fight
And only for the wicked reasons will they unite
And you will witness them as they witness you
As you teach of accountability, as you lecture of love
But you will often be met with a deaf ear
But do not give up on those ideals that you hold dear
Because if you look to the edges of the earth, and then gaze above
Ask yourself: Where do I want to be when it is time to be judged?
But despite our ideals our conscience decisions proves the prophecies true
*We will be the death of mankind
Jan 28, 2014
Jan 28, 2014 at 9:24 AM UTC
What does it mean to love "scarred". I thought as I sat there running my fingers across the keys of the black keyboard, the letters in white standing still and unmovable atop the glossy charcoal plastic.
Entering data onto the screen..thinking about the facts and details listed into my story.
My mind wandered from the task at hand..I pictured myself...calm in demeanor...raging inside to unleash the fury, fervor and forgiveness of the untold story boiling within.
Tucked away in shades of tall lustrous trees, behind the walls of a small charmingly cozy cabin, emptying the madness of words to create- My Story-in ink.
The one reason I've been given breath and sensation to envision beyond the factitious boundaries that surround these hands and feet.
Loving despite the afflictions that seemingly forever tore at my heart, is quite possibly one of the greatest types of Love.
Constructing within me the ability to Hopefully...Master compassion.
Loving scarred. Loving despite pain, loving with wreckage still in the heart, loving with the stains of tears etched in the skin, loving having the knowledge of love and loss.
Perhaps..this is the best form of Love.
Rather than wishing these away, soaking them in..allowing the forming of the heart to take place.
Love, whether blemished, disfigured or flawed..
is the one source of human capability to fully heal.
Sep 6, 2016
Sep 6, 2016 at 6:11 PM UTC
Is there a place somewhere known and yet unknown
where humans keep or lose their guilts
Is there a dumping hole or a snug
or a fierce incinerator blazing
That destroys or obliterates
human guilts
Is it a known some guilts carry comfortably and alone
just another thing for the holdall satchel bag or arm
Someday its worryingly heavy on the shoulders
other times it's just small and weightless
An accessory as any others
imperceptibly light
Is the heavy guilt or tons heavy ones like granite stone
a weary toil left in a storage or thrown over a cliff
What ever done guilts come with a personal receipt
bearing owners name time and number
Attached to owner and carried 24/7
marked as 'Non-Transferable'
Is your guilt or guilts bearable or carry-able like your phone
have you stored, hidden it or pushed down a crevice
What about the indelible receipt on your person
that which is there and rests on you
Does it flare like an incindaries
or just simmer quietly
Is your guilt a bedfellow that clings to your chest in a zone
whispering in tone foreboding and chills persistent
Or one that wades in and recedes like shore waves
perhaps it's a type like a central rigid statue
An unmovable edifice of horror
coated in fear and alarm
Is your guilt light and niggly, a Bonsai with no tall grown
did you amend paying a due and penanced did leave
And though the attached receipt still haunts you
least you know it will gradually fade away
Leaving truly tutoring imprints
Never to be repeated
Is your guilt a stranger yet unmet and your spirit happy flown
do you walk in salient steps with no recourse to remorse
And greet each morn with pleasantries to I, me and self
enthralled no rent paid for secret storage or a crevice
Just the one that stands before man and Creation
Held aloof by a Conscience unstained
Copyright@Laurence14th Aug2018.all rights reserved.
Aug 14, 2018
Aug 14, 2018 at 8:11 PM UTC
New heart flame so bright
Atop this ancient Candle
Awakes my day-old fright.
Fiery memories of this forgotten scandal.
I wouldn't recommend -
Defending someone so lost in their own eyes.
Their soul flies
No need to compromise.
Everyday is self-justified.
It's a way to think,
breathe,
eat, and feel.
All about me,
every speech, step, and meal.
You can't reprimand.
After all, it's tough to need
To be needed.
To let yourself actually care,
That kinda thing slightly impairs.
Your sense of judgment I hear.
Always been unmovable.
Every day, just me and the sun.
All my dreams, so approachable.
In between, my daily fun.
Until a new heart flame came bursting through
Bearing gifts and cursing me with thoughts of you.
Strike my morals with your lightning bolt of a smile.
An instant to re-think, and deny my deepest denials.
We as humans think colors when we feel emotions.
Something our brain does, call it thought recognition.
A crimson flame turned brighter magenta.
Within my ever-cautious aura.
Mixing simplicity with complications.
New heart flame
I wonder if I need you.
Lavender stroke of luck, guess it doesn't matter.
No one's to blame
At least now I've something to do.
Spending every day trying to flatter.
Learned a lesson on love today.
That it's just being who you are, every bit you can admit.
With someone standing there and accepting it.
Like a new heart flame shinning there in the fray.
Or just telling someone something you never thought you'd say.
That I'm always here for you, and I'll never quit.
Feb 15, 2013
Feb 15, 2013 at 5:21 AM UTC