It’s strung together through the fibers on the back of the lost
Dreams that leave you sweat-stained and hopeful
How dare we doubt ourselves?
In the midst of our mist and making, we think to miss?

in this town
words hold hostages
not meaning.
if i cry i will
bleed, and i will
lose,
integrity and i will
rip apart the frontdrop that has
made my portraits pretty
for (maybe) minutes on end.

It doesn’t matter,
When the sun sets to the west
It doesn’t matter,
How fast the current is in
the ocean
It doesn’t matter,
When a storm passes through
the plains
It doesn’t matter,
The way stars twinkle in the
night sky

What are we here for?
Might there be a purpose that is more?
Maybe only time can tell the true meanings of our lives; it doesn’t lie.
That’s the power behind our efforts that continue till we die.

I am an ordinary school girl,
I have homework,
I have assignments,
I have essays,
and I have tests.

What is life?
Is it the short time between birth and death?
Is it a chance to do something?
If it is, then what?
Do we pursue happiness?
Do we try to help others?
Or are we all here to fulfill a purpose?
If we are, how do we find it?
We don’t.