Happiness is that which everyone longs
but so few of us actually get
Happiness is that which rights all wrongs
and leaves us without regret
Why then does happiness torture us so
when all we want is to feel
what happiness does in the lowest of low
when everything just seems too real.
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Some questions are best left unanswered, some answers are best left unquestioned. «Alex»
To whom, which, what is beautiful is it from eyes sight sparkles of light, delightful senses, reflections, light-waves, shapes and colour. Could there be any other...
Is this fate, Or is this love. Is this real, Or a gift from above. Is this destiny, Or is this perfection. Is this true, Or just small affection. Is this life, Or is this your heart.
Moonlight reflects, My greatest respects, This distant place, Gives me such a distaste, Sparks shower, This is the glass hour.
Crashing tides against still rocks. Washing machines full of odd white socks. Broken dreams of a once hope filled child. Spoken screams of one usually so mild.
Words are my toys, that bend and do not break. Like an unbreakable sword, double edged, give or take.
Words flow like blood from a wounded heart on a cold, cloudless day. Words pour like wine from a paper cup in a vague, meaningless way.
There are those that do believe. That the stars represent our souls. Our lost ones looking over us. Watching how our lives unfold. But I believe the stars. Represent wishes held in our hearts.
Days, even years from now Our thoughts, they will be read Days, even years from now Our bodies will be dead And when I fall I will run Run by your side To the sun Now I'm wondering Where we're...
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