Sin, suffering, and sorrow
My three deepest fears
The three enemies of my faith
Tearing and being torn
Swearing and being mourned
Death on the horizon, I
See the third fear, and
Am surmising
That soon I must
Say goodbye
And my world will go on
Where his ended
My life will move on
Where his didn’t
And then from that pain I turn
I see another man
Who’s life was burned
By the first enemy
By his own choice he
Destroyed a name
He squandered his voice
To play a game

The tears kept falling
I dashed them away
Angry at how fragile I’d become
But the anger only made the
Tears fall
Thicker
Adding to the overwhelming sense of
Feeling every emotion
So strongly
It started with sympathy for
A Hollywood actor
Making pain feel tangible for a moment
While creasing over on-screen
His face a tangle of fear and
Heartbreak
“Okay?”
“Okay.”
But the truth is that I’m not
Okay
I’m broken because
A song about seeing the stars
Over Amsterdam

Seems like everyone's
shallow these days;
busy tickling o'er stuff that
doesn't matter much:
dark, vile humor and
even darker smiles,
plastered on broken souls
that forgot the joys of
childhood.

Why is our laughter so
heavy all of a sudden?
Like everyone finds this pain
amusing.
I find it curious that
for whatever reason,
I am least happy when I'm
laughing.

What is missing here?

As the glowing sun set behind Knight Manor. Isabella Knight a beautiful 21-year-old girl was finishing the last few touches on a surprise birthday party for her mom and uncle her mom’s twin brother. Bella scribbled on a piece of paper the last couple of items she needed to grab from the store.
‘Cake, candles, and balloons.’ thought Bella as she ran out the door to her black truck and rushed to the store. As Bella picked up the last few things on her list her phone rang.
“Hello” “Bella honey, it’s dad is everything ready for your mom and uncle?”

It was like a movie
When I first met you
The moment moved me
I still remember
Your soul of beauty
It stole me away, away
The first few months of the year that I turned 18 were like magic. In February my courtship became official, and I felt like I was floating on clouds. Life was all sunshine and roses to me.
Richer or poorer
Better or worse
Could we be together
Could we make it work
If love is patient
And if love is kind
Oh God, give me a sign

And now, my brother
You've been laid to rest
Your sojourn is at a close
It came so fast
A blink and it's passed
And why, no one knows

Dance with the angels
Sing for our King
Enjoy your new crown
And your heavenly bling
Just tell me all about it
When I see you up there
Someday

The day my dogs I chose
I was all in a riot
An empty stomach was my diet
Our home was full of disquiet
My dogs were sweet, dare I deny it?

They are still now and quiet
Where the red fern grows.

My grief on me bestows
A sense of failed endeavor
To save my dogs, so clever
I know I’d do whatever—
Now I will see them never!

Will they lie there forever,
Where the red fern grows?

She held out her heart
Without hesitation
And lifted it up,
A grand presentation.

I took it from her
I took it so gently
That sweet little gift
To guard it intently.

So pure and so fresh,
I watched it maturing;
The older she grew
Her sweet heart ensuring.

And then came the day
Its sweetness was tainted;
The day that I felt
We were not acquainted.

So mild the change,
I sensed it directly;
Her manner was cold,
I thought so abjectly.

I once had a dream,
And in it was you—
Child of my heart,
Girl of my dreams.
Sweet little sister,
Bright as the dawn,
Right from the start
You’re real, it seems.

Brown hair, brown eyes,
A miniature me,
Is it really you—
Right out of my dream?
So quiet with others,
So open with me,
I really love you,
We make a good team.

Rain never falls upon this land.
The heat is strong, the shrubs are dry,
And dust flies loosely all around,
Under a shimmering, glaring sky.

My feet are scorched by frying sand;
My head is burned by angry rays;
I wend upon this flaming ground,
And watch the hours turn into days.

At night it cools, yet no relief
Will comfort in my turning sleep;
The air oppressively berates;
My rest is neither sound nor deep.