I’m weak when I need to be strong I’m lost and I need to be found I despair and I cannot find hope I reach out and nothing is there I offer and no one accepts I cry out but no one is near Spirit in pain I stagger along The sound of my weeping Becomes my theme song ljm
she casts her pencil like a wand as magic soaks into the page her flannel cascades around her work, shielding it from curious eyes she tilts her head to listen to the lecture, but her heart is elsewhere running through castles and stumbling through candle lit streets colors tangle to mirror the expanse of her dreams she shares her soul with every meticulous stroke each face blessed by her style but never the same when she designs she never aims for perfection for she knows perfect is just a fancy way of saying flawed she erases and redraws as if her art could never satisfy her desires it can always be better but it is never good enough if only she knew I meant it when I told her I loved her drawing her art speaks to me like Mona Lisa never could
i just wanted you to know that I've been reading your poems your stories your heart and I too bleed for these words like you and I hope you read mine too when your heart seek for words
The world’s fattest people, packin’ on the pounds Driving to McDonald’s whenever the mood And then to the beer joint, drinking those rounds While complaining about the price of food