So I didn't write this, it was something my friend wrote. I don't want to take any credit from them, but it struck a chord with me and I wanted more people to read it. He gave me permission to 'do something with it', so here I am, doing something with it.*

I don't want to go to school
I just want to sit
With a book, a game or a movie
And watch the world go by
Watch the people they consider normal
Try and guess their lives
Sit in the church yard
In the rain
And guess how people died
I just want to sit
Quietly
And watch the world go by

Some people need kindness
The storms and burn of life have beat them down
Every turn they take is filled with broken hearts
And minds and lives
Every day demands a sacrifice of blood and tears
But their body is empty.

Some people want kindness
That they've grown accustomed to being given
Without charge or return they want help
And false smiles and sympathy
But they can't lift a finger or open their mouth or wallet
To help the empty.

Some people deserve kindness
Through every whirlwind of pain they kept both eyes on others
Though they fell they would refuse attention
And bandages and pain relief
Until all those around received theirs first
While they empty out their heart on others
And let their own soul suffer alone.

Floating off into summer dreams,
That mean more than just days,
And not just an escape.

Not a moment to smile,
Or bask in the haze,
That I made in my head.

Instead a release, not joy,
But hot salt trickles down my cheek,
And I cry without restraint.

And I allow myself to feel,
To be sad, for once, and weak,
To let emotion out and, in turn,
Allow happiness in.

Once something starts moving,
It's hard to bring it to rest again -
One word can become a future,
Deflecting the course of truth.

Further and further we fly,
Off into the unknown,
Beyond knowledge and fear
Into some new light.

Or hint of a light,
That we wish we could see
clearly enough to know
We were going the right way.

Mornings are not so,
Rain-soaked and painted grey,
Now, on occasion, we are blessed,
With light and warmth,
To wake us from our slumber,
More readily.

The rays glint on the windows across the road,
And dazzle my eyes,
So I can barely see the infinite blue,
That so rarely shows itself,
But instead hides behind tears and mist.

If the sun would only shine a month earlier,
Or a fraction brighter,
Wouldn't it be wonderful?
Perhaps.
But would it bring such joy,
If we knew its light would embrace us again,
And again, and again, and again?