Seek out happiness for yourself, and make those around you happy.
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Some days, nothing takes the pain away.
Nothing drives anxiety out the window, Nothing makes words overheard dissipate. Words written across my skin, or a scarf around my wrist Won't keep my fears away. I want to be buried under a cold mound of dirt or in pair of solid arms. Either one will do. I want to get a band of ink sewn into my skin that reads:
Willing to stand in the hurricane, Because on most days I need to be reminded to stay brave. I have a scarf, black, with white daisies Given by the mother of my father to my mother And on some days, I wrap it 'round my wrist So I don't forget the pain she endured And the smile she planted on her face This is not a poem. Maybe love
will let me beat my fists against its chest until my roaring turns to wracking sobs Maybe love will withstand my long silences and become my hiding place, become the jar I pour my hurt into and the arms that squeeze me back together again. These feelings are no more than residue that time will clear away;
I cannot make them go. I must simply keep them to myself and wait for them to pass. That is all. The people who'll stick with you when things go haywire; those are the people you want in your life. Everyone else can go.
I will not seek the approval of those who only like me when everything goes right. It doesn't matter if I stand alone sometimes.
It won't keep me from achieving my dreams. He sits in the the corner made by that old stone building and unfastens his soul for sharing and sets his wares about him for selling And people stand around to see the beautiful things he makes with his voice. It's not really fair The way she's allowed to break like that in the middle of a freeway Her momma is waiting at home But the lover that she never met Will never know she's gone with no one watching but the wind. And it's empty--no one gave it capacity to hold emotion, Only memories. Her momma will remember her smile, But he won't know the life he's missing, And she'll never know. She'll never know No sirens, or cars, no tears left to cry more than to know that Life cannot cannot wait until we are ready. She was a stitch In a tapestry And most people don't notice dropped stitches. |