“Sometimes you have to chop off the dead ends so that you can continue To grow in a healthy direction.”

Does caring make us weak? I think it makes us stronger, For it’s quite difficult To be selfless, But rather easy to be selfish.

I couldn’t dream of loving you anymore than I already do, Yet every day I wake up so much more in love with you.

Sometimes the words call out to me often waking me from a dream, And other times – Leaving me stranded within one.

I can’t help myself but stare off into empty space I don’t know where else to search for you, And I miss you so much.

When will we learn to respect one another, when will our egos learn to take a seat?

Don’t let anyone tame the wild horses that stampede inside your heart.

I may be incapable of adding Any moments onto our lives, Nor taking back my mistakes. But I could never ponder subtracting even a minute from our lives together.

I’ve become almost professional, at pushing the feelings aside, away, afar. It’s not hard at all, in fact, It’s a chore to feel anything at all.

Seasons change, With my heart along For the ride.

I love the idea of those Who sing in the car; Dance while they eat; Laugh at their own mistakes. I envy these people So in love with just existing.

Your Smile, that smile you beam From cheek to cheek, Has such a way of leaving me weak.

Don’t force yourself into crevices that are much too small For your big, wild heart.

The moon screams, “You’re running out of time,” But perhaps tomorrow is only A new beginning.

Maybe our story didn’t end the way we planned but, Neither did the beginning. Regardless, our story will remain as one of my fondest memories.

I’ve grown tired of playing the warrior In the battle between me And my demons.

It breaks my heart in half watching your spirit fall. So when the light is fading, can I be the one you call?

It might sound cliche but with the dying of another day, I’m close to walking away as my mind is leading me astray.

Sometimes I lay down at night and wonder if it’s time to lay down my life.

When you least expect it, death creeps in and reminds you of life.

We are survivors we glisten in the sun for all the nights I died alone I did not know another woman carried my song and it is beautiful now look what we have become.

Friendships that die are like a lost art.

When all the world is overcharged with inhabitants, then the last remedy of all is war, which provideth for every man, by victory or death.

Life is a constant process of dying.

Racism and racist are really is a matter of life and death, and we have a whole lot more to do.