mirlynn2000

I am sorry But leave me to me To try to help Will only hinder Your hand held out Will only set me back Close your eyes Be blind to the cuts I have Close your ears Be deaf to my screams Close your mouth Don't speak on my pain As I am cut I heal myself As I scream It's my release It's in my pain I find my own peace

I once read that in our imperfect world perfection would not survive. In order for perfection to survive it would have to have one flaw in it. How can something be perfect if it has a flaw? Why do we search for perfection if we know it won't last? I think that finding perfection is our dream and a dream doesn't have to be something that is or could be real. In fact, what we dream for may never exist, but that doesn't stop us from dreaming. In our search for perfection, we've bettered ourselves. So, is it really wrong to look for something that doesn't exist? In our search we ended up seeing everything that was along the way. We see good thing

We had a friend He used to walk with us Did you see his foot prints next to ours? But you don't see them there now A brush of wind and a drift of snow And now he doesn't walk there anymore God picked him up off his feet And said, "You're coming with me" We can always ask why But the answer will always be "Because I needed him with me" God puts everyone on a journey And then He says "You're coming with me" He means for this friend to be with him and rest awhile Whether their journey was a foot or a mile Walking won't be the same, but even with the drifts You turn around, and there will always be his foot prints .........dedica

The phoenix is a great creature of myth.  It is never truly gone.  From its ashes it shall rise in all its fire and passion, but then eventually it becomes the ashes from which it came.  This pattern of its rise and fall could repeat to the end of time.  I feel that love can be like the phoenix, it rises in fire and passion and can fall to ashes due to a misunderstanding of words and language or anything that stops or slows loves passion.  The phoenix falls to its ashes because its fire and passion is not true or pure.  If the passion is not true, then of course it will die in the lie it was made.  The impurity of the phoenix causes it to stu

The stream is quiet and calm The storm is done and gone The animals are sleeping by the side No reason to run and hide The stream, one time was flooded Like a river, wild and rugged A storm brewed inside Then exploded and died A hand came down, like that of fate A hand that quieted this loud hate

Some say silence is bliss Or maybe more like a kiss I think silence can be deafening Like something wrong is happening There has to be something you can hear For silence is what creates the fear

Love is life fulfilled to the last Overlooking the other's wrongs of the past Volunteering your vulnerability without shame Everlasting love that forever stays the same Acknowledging the amber glow love is assigned Looking to make seen a love that is blind Watching without weariness the day's while light Accepting an ever awaiting dark of night You when you get stubborn in your ways Say very simply with quiet strength Love Always

Live life to the fullest is how the saying goes But whether or not you do, no one knows You can try But you might die Then will you have done it? As the saying goes, or will you question it? And say there was more you could do Even though life ended for you Will you accept what you have done? And say you've had your fun Or will you hear a voice laughing As you lie grasping To something said to you That you don't even know is true

She woke to the sound of the rain Knowing something was wrong The air was tight It wasn't right Something didn't belong Something plain Something feigned It hit her like a gong Then the air was light All was set right The feeling was now gone But the aura remains Like the persistent rains Waiting for the sun To shed some light On the fearful plight Of this day's troubled dawn

Persistent rain Please maintain This cloak of cover for me For as I fly I must get by The troubled things I see Beautiful sun Do not come And show the light of day For if I see The things that be I'll never get away

I am thinking of the girl, As the rain drops meet my face, A memory resurrected, Lips met in gloomy weather... Eyes shut tightly, Her hair is flatten by the airs dew, Her smile still ever so elegant, Faces approach each others... Her soft lips touch mine, A dream come true, Holding her not then but now, As the rain falls all around us...