leaving room for errors always seems wise, until there are mistakes sleeping on every sofa in your house. my mother always told me not to trust these guys but somehow i find myself keeping them around. to my soul it all just ties around my heart it pounds i am wounded but in a way at peace, in the lies that my body knows isn’t safe or sound if this is where i find myself, where am i found?

Leaving room for errors always seems wise, until there are mistakes sleeping on every sofa in your house.

These visitors are often is disguise, Some loud and others quiet like a church mouse.

Leaving room for errors always seems wise until there are mistakes sleeping on every sofa in your house You said you’d never let me go Some errors can be forgotten like a bruise You said it would never happen again Some errors can be hidden like a broken bone mended You said give us one last chance Leaving room for errors can leave a door open in the middle of the night You said you’d never let me go

leaving room for errors always seems wise, until there are mistakes sleeping on every sofa in your house.

the first slip up was three months in college. we thought it was nirvana, and so we named her so. he only said goodbye to her when he left.

the second misstep was my first boss. we thought it felt clandestine, so when named her secret. i left him when she knew the new assistant.

the third oversight was you. we felt like gods above men, so we named them grace, faith, and virtue. you left when i couldn’t take the burden.

now i’m left with them. leaving me with a mess in every crevice. at least they cuddle and kiss me on the cheek.

too bad they smell and bark at squirrels in the trees.

Leaving room for errors seems wise until there are mistakes sleeping in every sofa in your house You’re not alone Just like everyone I like the odds of the only us

Leaving room for errors while I leave the door open To all the swirling and twirling It’s turbulent Turbulent Life keeps spinning and spinning While the world sits still I keep on spinning and spinning With only time left to kill

In the terminal Leaving this land We connect together On the other life’s hand Waking me up Feeling my skin Leaving me be But where do I begin

In the air It’s all up in the air Life is turbulent And I don’t care

200 words All I need is 200 words To set me free

3 last words I hate you I love you Three words

Floating away into space Let’s my mind sit free to erase All the calm I feel And all the bent to kneel

Today I’ll live Today I’ll sleep

I’m laying in bed Not able to sleep Again and again But I need to eat I hav time to kill With nothing left to fill

Release me from the Chains that bind Release me from my mind

Leaving room for errors always seems wise Til they move in and start to take advantage Too many roommates is an undercover guise For a life that has been mismanaged

Leaving room for errors always seems wise, Until there are mistakes sleeping on every sofa in your house, And regrets stuffed in the letter box or slipped under the door.

There will be unwashed thoughts swimming with the dirty dishes,
And sharp edged words in the cutlery drawer.

In the end your keys will be duplicated ten times over, Until every corner of your home is overcrowded with unwanted strangers.

When night finally comes and you lay your head down, Don’t forget to check between the sheets, Because monsters too have made their beds in your home.

Leaving room for errors always seems wise, until you realize errors are all you make room for. Mistakes are okay to make, they help you learn and grow, but when you stop learning and stop growing mistakes start to take control.

Leaving room for errors, Many men advise, When you lack life experience, May come across as wise.

Tiny errors tiptoe in Unnoticed, like a mouse, And soon they’ll be asleep On every sofa in your house.

They’ll skitter through the words of every manuscript you write, They’ll patter through your musings in the middle of the night. They’ll burrow in your brainmeats and across your bedroom floor, They’ll skirt and scratch and scamper, then they’ll slip beneath the door.

They’ll cover every cushion of the couches that they find, They’ll hardly give a signal but they’ll shred your piece of mind, And every scrap of focus that you’ve worked so hard to feel, Will find itself in storage for a little error’s meal.

Your self-esteem will shatter as you shoo away the pests Your inner critic caterwauls as uninvited guests Slide in through every crevice to lay claim upon the stakes A younger you decided to reserve for your mistakes.

Leaving room for errors always seems wise, until there are mistakes sleeping on every sofa in your house. Like a flower, wilting on a grave. Your worst enemy taken