What I’ve learned but consistently ignore. Not my best.
Sometimes I think it’s all in the lost and found of my soul,
these ancient emotions pulsing through my veins know no shame.
They’re reaching for some unattainable dream
leeching my strength,
an end to a means,
a means to an end,
it’s all coming back to whatever the beginning was
if there even was one.
Writing builds up inside like fire
and here I am reaching for love
reaching for hope
standing here with open arms.
Somewhere in that dusty box that no one ever bothers to look through
there isn’t peace
there’s finality
and I can hope in that….the end of the hope
hope will drive you insane
hope will keep you sane.
Hope is the fire in love, faith is the fire in hope
Love is the fire in me.
Love and longing exist inside a box and sometimes they should stay there
On occasion, I need to respect the “Look but do not touch” signs.
