Tints and Shades

how is it that the thing i read intensively for a year be a thing i'm struggling with  and i don't even realize it until i do

a roof it's thick swallowing matter meters under various things covered a lonely track it's meant for one canopy protecting nothing but happiness the sound of screech and hiss swallowing back its pace forcefully destination reached it has not the fuels it runs out of it has yet to see a tiny ray of light the train, i mean the unknown number of steps needed the tracks, i mean and the airless and dark underground tunnel the train befriends

a couple of couple tees i held so dearly the photobox pictures so old the colors faded a pile of beads bracelets left untouched and memories so many it's hard to dismiss give and take the value everyone is holding on now give and take the value i was clueless of all i ever know is to give to give even though i'm running out to give even though there's nothing left to give to give to you who is overflowing i gave you you took from me i give you but now i'm free

every letter forming words each flowing out like it's made to every conversation turning to sleepless nights each happening like it's meant to you're my favorite fiction that of which i would peek in between you're my favorite fiction that of which i would read countless times you're my favorite fiction that of which i would memorize its lines you're my favorite fiction that of which i would be reminded of you're my favorite fiction. tragic, you're my favorite fiction.

She’s a wild flower A species so rare No place she calls home She despised her silhouette Even once tried to erase Her very own shadow under the sun Oh yet, Life has decided To give her a second chance She just found a place For her to show her petals Where creatures would feed off her She has just about to bloom And declare significance Yet the evil wind tosses her away Life, for her, Is just about to start. Yet, The thunderstorm is drifting her apart.

rain, is it hard to be you? to be longed for when you're not there to be despised at when you're actually there rain, is it hard to be you? to sometimes be accused of flood often even blamed for blood rain, is it hard to be you? does it hurt to fall from such heights? or does it feel good to be back home?

God of mercy, God of second chances. thanks for not giving up on me.