My mother cried
when I was a child...
Feeling abandoned, where the sun never shines
allows you to cast away demons...
Wisdom is a process
That's can be hard to get...
Sometimes,
I wonder what happened to those vivid images...
Each morning she awoke
Wanting this day, another day...
Candle flames are overexposed
And constantly under attack...
One day those broken skies
Dripped raindrops from their eyes...
I hope all the Angels drink coffee
And they pull for the Atlanta Braves...
If life was a rose garden
Then we would be those flowers...
I'm like a one way mirror searching for myself
In an idealistic silver world of numbness...
To be honest we never get along
We seldom ever see eye to eye...
It's all we've been given
From The Maker up above...