Some nights I lay silently on the grass and listen to the trees argue.
Their rustling leaves helps to take away my mind when it is all jumbled in one big mess.
The trees have survived so much more than me. Remembering that helps me to know that whatever troubles I have, I can get through.
My problems are so small in perspective to the large trees. The trees that have grown here for centuries.
They have witnessed wars, and hail, and fire. They have survived the strongest of winds and the fiercest of rains.
They have seen the most uninaginable.
So I can lay on my back and hear them argue, and let my troubles fade away.
The trees can be angry, but they are rooted and strong. And braved so much more than me.
So much more trouble and ache, and if they can survive all that pain, then so can I.
I was quiet, but I was not blind. That is what I want to tell people when they say I’m too shy.
I was never shy, I just had nothing to say. Nothing that was worth a person’s time.
I have always hated it when people call me too quiet. That is not what I am.
I listened to everything. I did my job. Exactly what I was supposed to.
Why should someone be mad at me for being a good student?
Did you want me to stop following the rules? I never wanted to be like the annoying kids.
I was a good kid so why was I punished for not speaking aloud in class?
Do they really want everyone to be annoying? I never thought so.
Why can’t I just be silent and be a good student? That is all I have ever wanted to be.
I have things to say, many things, but it is just not worth your time.
Not worth to say to the annoying students or those who don’t care.
No one cares what I have to say, so why should I share?
People who don’t care what I have to say do not deserve what I have to say.
I am not quiet. Quiet does not mean I wasn’t paying attention.
I listened. I saw. I understood more than the rest of them.
I always hate it when I get lower marks for not speaking up in class.
I hate being called quiet.
That is not who I am.
Anyone who calls me quiet does not know who I am.
They are just not worth the real me.
The sky is dark outside, in the middle of the night. I should be sleeping right now, but I can’t. It’s easier to stay awake when my mind is racing.
I enjoy the peacefulness of the middle of the night. The quiet and the darkness. It is then when I can finally think.
I sit up in my bed and throw the covers off. I need fresh air. It will help me relax and think.
I walk over to the other end of my room. From there I bend down and unlatch one lock. Then I stand on my tip-toes to reach the other lock.
I am free. A fresh, cool wind reaches my face giving me the feeling of being awake. It is like a whole new point of view.
I walk over to the railing of my balcony and look out down below. The pretty little houses all quaint and quiet. As if no one else is awake in the whole city but me.
Over the tops of the houses is the never-ending sea. Stretching far and wide with the gloomy clouds in the distance.
The air is fresh from the passing of rain but the sky is clear enough to see the twinkling stars up above.
Far in the horizon I see a glow. Faint at first but it slowly grows.
First just a small glow of purple, but then from the purple comes blue, and so on.
On and on until the red reaches the night sky.
The resulting view is magical.
Twinkling stars up above, and the pretty, misty clouds fading in the distance. But the glow of the vibrant colours masks all else.
Magic.
The sky is a whole new world. The seas below reflecting both the colours and the twinkles from the sky like a swirling potion mixing to create something magical.
The magic is what takes my breath away. My head is finally cleared. I let out a deep breath.
If something this beautiful can exist, then that means that all my problems can go away.
There is no place for my problems in a world so magical as this.
Love is the lie That keeps us alive It keeps us on going And fighting each day
We’re stronger When we believe it Then you know it is there If you just hold on tight
Even at the lowest And darkest of times Just the thought of a love Can bring you to the light
Not even a deep love Or strong hold too tight Just a small little feather That floats on just right
A piece to hold on to To keep growing stronger A promise of always That there is still something
Love is the lie That keeps us alive It keeps us on going And fighting each day
We went inside today That’s what we were told When we were playing outside Enjoying the nice bright day
Go inside They all told us So we did, locked in our rooms And never to come out
Glued to the computer They told us, keep looking Our lives revolve around it Just keep on clicking
Who is the new face On the flat of my screen? I’ve never met then before But they recognize me
Come sit around the screen We all gather with glee Who are all these people? But I can’t remember
I’m told they are family, Friends, and all others They smile at me But I can’t look at the screen
The screen is now torture It is my whole life I can’t live without it Or else they’ll miss me
I don’t understand Why I’m locked in my room Why I can’t see anyone Without a quick zoom
I want to go outside And play with my friends To see the bright sun And be done with the screen
While chasing your ghost, I became one myself Because I never gave up hope That you weren’t really gone
You started to fade And I clung to the thought That we would be together Even when we were not
I never dreamed of the day That I’d lose you forever That you’re not coming back That you are not real
I chased you and loved you Begging to stay But that could not happen As you fade away
What does red mean?
Is it the fiery boil of anger saved for someone special?
Is it the deep and dreadful scarlet of blood along the floor?
Is it the candy apple of poison deep inside a heart?
Is it the ruby shade of power that consumes the brain in hold?
Is it the bright and lightning fire of danger in its path?
And all the dread that it represents.
Is it the cardinal of morning and hope that will be found?
Is it the maroon of love and loyalty that leads into a romance?
It is the cinammon of home and joyous sounds of laughter?
Is it the brick of a strong hold that will keep on centred?
Is it the mahogany of secrets and long awaited adventure?
But it can be all these things too.
If your hand could reach inside my heart, what would you do with it?
Would you crush it like you did to me, when you turned your back?
Would you break it like you did to me, when you never left an answer?
Or would you fix and put it back together, in the place where it belongs?
Would you mend it like you should have done, all those years ago?
The moment in time Where everything’s fine It doesn’t matter what is Just that it is
The curl out of place Or the mismatched of socks A tear in a jacket Or a scar on an arm
The things out of place Make it all seem so nice It doesn’t mater what is Just that it is
The tear in a paper Or the train just so late A hole in the road Or toast burnt to a crisp
Things just awry And you don’t need to try It doesn’t matter what is Just that it is
The wrong kind of donut Or a customer’s late A missed piece of work Or a troubled worn day
It makes life so perfect In every which way Everything is just As it is meant to be
