I’m scared to ask,
To know,
To make sure,
If it is me,
If it isn’t,
And why.

I’m scared to hear
The truth,
The answer,
If it is me,
If it isn’t me,
Then why?

I’m scared to see
The light,
The answer,
The fight or flight,
If it isn’t me,
If it is me,
Then why?

I’m scared because
I care too much,
Believe too much,
Trust too much,
Naive, idealistic



The worst part of me
Is with the best part of me
And if I silence one,
I’d lose both.

Should I lose one–
The words,
The rhythm of thoughts,
The flowing stream with the life of its own,
The life behind each stroke of the hand–
For a little more sanity,
For a little more silence,
For a little more peace.

Or should I choose the other–
The sleepless nights,
The overthinking,
The fears
The imagined shadows haunting the corners of my mind–
For a little more strength,
For a little more grace,
For a little more peace,

Oh I’d cry sometimes.
At night.
When everything is silent
Except for my mind.
When everything’s asleep
But the thoughts wanting to be found.
I’d cry of the gift
Of the curse
And of both.
I’d cry of the choice
And needing to make one.
I’d cry of the fact I cannot.
I’d cry of the fact that I have chosen the same thing
Over and over again,
Each and everytime.
I’d cry of the unknown
If this is right or wrong.
I’d cry of the fear
That this is what I hold dear.

But I have chosen.
And this is evidence of it.
And though silence is a must
Every now and then,
This is my choice.
Should there be a time
That I forget these thoughts of mine,
I hope to read this again,
My solace from pain.


I’ve come to understand
     That I know nothing
     Of all there is to know–
     But on the grand scale of things
     I know something;
     And that is more than enough.

I’ve come to understand
     That not everything is my battle
     And that though one may be lost
     It is in my respect to them
     That I not step in.

I’ve come to understand
      That I am not to please all
      That I am to choose if I answer a call
      That I can close the curtains
      That I can chose even the uncertain.

I’ve come to understand
       To live in peace
       To dedicate each day to humility and kindness
       And that though it may be unrequited
       I’m giving it to the needy who chose to be quiet.

Too Busy

Too busy
     To point out the differences,
     To build down little bridges,
     To recall old grudges,
     To say the other judges.

Too busy
     To see all’s the same
     Down to the core, not by name
     Or ways, or truths, or pains
     Different but the same.


You were too busy getting hurt
That you didn’t see me die
Night after night

I was too busy getting hurt
That I forgot that you, too, cry
Time after time
Every night.

But still.
If there is one tiny rope
We’re holding onto,
A tiny spark of light
To keep believing,
A tiny sliver of reason
To keep going–
I’d take it,
Hold onto it,
And kindle the fire
That was one so strong–
But now tested by the winds.
I shall keep it
Within my hands
Though it burns a little,
I’d hold it, knowing
You’d do too.