If I Were... by Lucky

If I were a memory I’d hold you there forever
Reminding you of the good times we shared together

If I were a smile on your face I would stay
Never to let sadness chase me too far away

If I were a teardrop I’d roll gently down from your eyes
Not to burn much but to mend your sweet cries

If I were a hand I’d want you to hold me in your own
Carry me through life .. even when I’m grown

If I were feet I would stay inline with you
So I could be with you in all that you do

If I were a shadow I would always follow
We’d face things together in all the tomorrows

If I were pain I’d stay far away from the start
To make sure you never felt me or I never broke your heart

If I were a song I’d be a sweet sound to your ears
To keep up your hopes and carry you through the years

If I were strength I’d give you my all
I’d hold you high and never let your fall

If I were your heart I’d be steady and true
I’d be there in every beat; staying strong for you

If I were the sun I’d shine down upon your face
Illuminate your smile and radiate through your grace

If I were a star I’d sparkle like your eyes
I would look upon your life and never stop my shine

I don’t know how good at those things I could be
I’m not any of them but this I want you to see

If I were a friend I couldn’t let you down
I’d never let you fall or walk away from me with a frown

If I were a friend I would hold your hand
I would be with you always, I hope you understand

If I were a friend I would give you my all
And though it’s not much, I’ll be there when you call

If I were a friend I’d be in every memory too
When you laughed, when you cried, I’d be with you

I CAN be these things, it’s not impossible to be a friend
I CAN be your best and I’ll be here till the end

If I were forever, you would be too
Together forever – me and you…

Alone- Edgar Allan Poe

                                                    From childhood's hour I have not been
                                                    As others were; I have not seen
                                                    As others saw; I could not bring
                                                    My passions from a common spring.
                                                    From the same source I have not taken
                                                    My sorrow; I could not awaken
                                                    My heart to joy at the same tone;
                                                    And all I loved, I loved alone.
                                                    Then- in my childhood, in the dawn
                                                    Of a most stormy life- was drawn
                                                    From every depth of good and ill
                                                    The mystery which binds me still:
                                                     From the torrent, or the fountain,
                                                    From the red cliff of the mountain,
                                                    From the sun that round me rolled
                                                    In its autumn tint of gold,
                                                    From the lightning in the sky
                                                    As it passed me flying by,
                                                    From the thunder and the storm,
                                                    And the cloud that took the form
                                                    (When the rest of Heaven was blue)
                                                    Of a demon in my view.

Invictus

Out of the night that covers me,
Black as the Pit from pole to pole,
I thank whatever gods may be
For my unconquerable soul.

In the fell clutch of circumstance
I have not winced nor cried aloud.
Under the bludgeonings of chance
My head is bloody, but unbowed.

 

Beyond this place of wrath and tears
Looms but the Horror of the shade,
And yet the menace of the years
Finds, and shall find, me unafraid.

It matters not how strait the gate,
How charged with punishments the scroll.
I am the master of my fate:
I am the captain of my soul.

Different

How are we so "different"?
If "different" is just a thing.
If we all have certain features,
What does "different" bring?

People filled with hatred,
Can't possibly see,
That there's not really "differences"
Between you and me.


Looks can't show "difference",
If they're just there to be seen.
If you don't look like someone else,
Why are they so mean?

If being "different" is what is wrong,
I'd rather not be right.
And I'd want to finish living,
Doing the "different" fight.
                                   by Vincen Tabatha

FOOTPRINTS IN THE SAND

One night I dreamed I was walking along the beach with the Lord.
Many scenes from my life flashed across the sky.
In each scene I noticed footprints in the sand.
Sometimes there were two sets of footprints.
Other times there were one set of footprints.
This bothered me because I noticed that during the low periods of my life
When I was suffering from anguish, sorrow, or defeat,
I could see only one set of footprints.
So I said to the Lord, "You promised me, Lord,
That if I followed you, you would walk with me always.
But I noticed that during the most trying periods of my life
There have only been one set of prints in the sand.
Why, When I have needed you most, you have not been there for me?"
The Lord replied,
"The times when you have seen only one set of footprints
Is when I carried you."
                      Mary Stevenson

I Got Flowers Today

I got flowers today.
It wasn't my birthday or any other special day.
We had our first argument last night,
And he said a lot of cruel things that really hurt me.
I know he is sorry and didn't mean the things he said.
Because he sent me flowers today.

I got flowers today.
It wasn't our anniversary or any other special day.
Last night, he threw me into a wall and started to choke me.
It seemed like a nightmare.
I couldn't believe it was real.
I woke up this morning sore and bruised all over.
I know he must be sorry.
Because he sent me flowers today.

I got flowers today,
And it wasn't Mother's Day or any other special day.
Last night, he beat me up again.
And it was much worse than all the other times.
If I leave him, what will I do?
How will I take care of my kids?
What about money?
I'm afraid of him and scared to leave.
But I know he must be sorry.
Because he sent me flowers today.

I got flowers today.
Today was a very special day.
It was the day of my funeral.
Last night, he finally killed me.
He beat me to death.
If only I had gathered enough courage
and strength to leave him,
I would not have gotten flowers...today
                                                 Paulette Kelly