Unwritten

Empty paper,
yet so many words in my head.
All floating around, making sentences,
yet my hand won't move them to paper.
Maybe they're better left unsaid.
Maybe not.
But there's so much I'd like to say,
so much I'd like to write.
But I can't make my own hand move.
It's like I'm frozen.
Or without my own willpower.
I want to write,
need to write.
It will help clear my head,
make me think clearer.
But. I. Can't.
All the words floating in my head.
They'll never get a chance.
Maybe it's too personal.
Maybe it's a sign from God.
Maybe they're just better left unsaid.
It doesn't matte rthe reason.
Because no matter what,
They're still unwritten.

Footprints

Step by step.
With each stride I leave my mark on the ground.
The leaves crunch beneath me.
I make a print, an impact.
If only it was the same for people.
When I meet someone,
I wish I could make a mark on their hearts.
When I talked with a friend,
They might listen.
When I answered a question, someone would learn from me.
But it doesn't.
People aren't leaves.
They won't move when I try to move them.
They have to have a greater force.
But I don't think it's me.
No, I think I may be the brick road on the way to the force.
Looked at, noticed,
but making no impact on the people that see me.
The force is God.
I need to put myself out there.
Live my life the way God wants it lived.
Maybe I should be the dirt.
When people step on me,
I turn it around to say, "God loves you."
My main ambition in life is to leave my footprint in this world.
I want to make my mark.
When I leave this Earth,
people can say, "That's her footprint."

Pictures vs. Memories

Pictures fade.

They fade with time, age, and light.

They don't last forever.

They can get torn, burnt;destroyed.

You can't rely on them.

Pictures fade, memories don't.

A memory, good or bad, is there to stay.

If it's bad, you just have to learn to move on and put it behind you.

Water under the bridge.

You can keep a memory forever.

They won't age. They don't burn.

A memory is something you can look back on and smile or cry.

I need my memories.

But sometimes you need evidence, like a picture to prove that something is true.

The mind is a powerful thing.

It can create what it wants to create.

How do I know if something's true or not?

That's why I need pictures too.

I'll keep my pictures and my memories,

But only my memories help me survive.

They remind me that a better world does it fact exist.

Somewhere.

Pictures fade, but memories don't.

Why do I Have to Scream?

Why won't you listen?
Why are you leaving me?
Why am I not good enough anymore?
Why can't you hear me?
Why do I have to scream?
I'm screaming at the top of my lungs,
but nothing's getting through to you.
Why are you leaving me?
Why now?
Why me?
You're hurting me
digging a dagger deep into my heart.
It'll kill me sooner or later.
But still I'll scream.
Why do I have to scream?
I shouldn't have to.
This is an equal relationship.
Or I should say was.
Because now you're leaving me.
No matter how many times I shout and yell and scream.
Why do I have to scream to get your attention?
It's almost like I'm invisable.
Even when we both know I'm not.
Now you're shouting at me.
Why are you yelling?
I'm still listening!
I haven't left!
I can hear you!
You don't have to scream!
Why should I have to?
Why do I have to scream?

Stairway to Heaven

That doorway that I unlock,
The caution that leads my head to look behind me,
I'm scared, yes,
What I will do requires a lot of courage,
But I know that the future that awaits me is a better one.

Now I'm opening the door,
The door that holds my future behind it,
As I open it, a bright light shines out.
It warms my face, my skin, my soul.

As I take that first step,
Into the light,
I relive my life,
All the moments, the pain, the suffering.
The happiness, the joy, all the memories come rushing back.

I step up the stairs,
one by one.
They say when you die,
Your life flashes before your eyes.
On each step, there is a portion.
And I relive my life.

I'm almost at the top,
I hear singing.
Joyful, wonderful, beautiful singing.
And It's all for me.

I'm at the last step,the final step,
But on this one, is something different.
I'm feeling something. Pride? No. Peace? No. Power? No.
I feel, love.
Overwhelming, floods of love.
Love surrounds me as I climb the memorable, wonderful,
Stairway to Heaven.

Over My Head

This load’s too heavy,
I’m not strong enough.
It’s not a physical load,
But a mental one,
Which requires just as much strength.
I’m in over my head.
Too many lies.
Too many secrets.
Too much hurt.
It’s a burden on my heart,
A pain in my soul,
A longing to be heard.
I’m in over my head,
Like a balloon about to pop.
I need to let it out,
Let it go,
Let it fly.
But the one person I need to talk to,
The one person that’ll make it better,
Slowly deflate my balloon,
Is out of reach.
Right in front of my fingertips,
But that’s not how I was raised.
I don’t go off on people.
I’m not supposed to complain,
I’m supposed to put their feeling first.
I’m in over my head,
And the one person that can help,
Is the one who’s drowning me.

What is Love?

When you give someone everything,
you have nothing left.
You've given them
friendship
love
kindness
your hopes
your dreams
your everything.

But when you have nothing, and they still want/need more,
What do you do then?
How do you cope?
Is it possible to go into negative nothing?

Could you take it back?
Any of it?
Could you take it back if you had already given it away?
Is it nonrefundable?

All these qusetions running through my head when all I wanted was one simple answer.
Do you love me?