Mom,
You are the light to my heart,
which makes you so smart.
You help me with every problem,
just to make me solve them.
You are the rose to my garden,
so shiny and bright.
I love you,
with all of my might.
Mom,
You are the light to my heart,
which makes you so smart.
You help me with every problem,
just to make me solve them.
You are the rose to my garden,
so shiny and bright.
I love you,
with all of my might.
Friends
Friends are supposed to be close
They’re supposed to care for each other
They’re supposed to
They’re supposed to
They’re supposed to
I’m sorry that I’ve been this way to you
That I haven’t been much help to you
That you give me more than I deserve
That I don’t really care that you’re hurt
That you’ve been working yourself into the dirt
But I don’t deserve it
I call you my friend, but do I really care?
Even a little bit?
Are we really that close?
Am I cruel?
What do I do?
They’re supposed to
They’re supposed to
They’re supposed to
But what am I supposed to do?
Nature, it’s a beautiful thing
it’s as peaceful as yoga it’s as crazy as cirus
at first it could be booming, and blustering and then be calm, and cool
when able to make the birds chirp when able to make the sky blue
is able to make the intense booming thunder is able to make the same bright sky cry as rain
that’s just nature
that’s just what nature wants to do.
Does it make a shadow when it falls?
Or perhaps it makes no shadow at all.
Does it whisper to the trees,
telling the bees that spring is at its knees,
rising as it please.
Where does it come from?
Why does it fall?
When nobody asked for any snow at all.
Ways to capture feelings, opinions, wistful or delightful thoughts into one.
Which can describe beautiful tulips blooming at dawn then day. The core of sweet songs, and meaningful advice.
But now only seems like threats, insults, and pleads. How could words be a simple sound for one.
But an inconsiderate offense in the eyes of another?
Nothing but a joke people say.
Until you’re the one holding everything inside.
Holding in so many feelings and thoughts of all kinds. That you cannot even put into words.
It feels like you’re holding your breath until everything is about to burst. Until you realize you are actually holding your breath.
To stop the noises you are making. That this time is not words but whimpers.
As sobs rip through your lips.
A wave of realization shocks through you.
Insults are to feelings as what a knife is to skin. Maybe you cannot control other people’s words.
But you have full control over your own. Words can be used as an ambush.
Or can be used as a defense. The choice is yours.
the piano keys click with every touch
the sound ringing through my ears
the curtain falls
it’s over
i get up from my seat
cheering
clapping
my parents must be proud
is this what i wanted?
fame?
never
i just wanted to touch the keys
alone
anonymous