Seeds.

Dusty records

Old times

The things we cheer to

We’re not to walk along lost in the past

Forward is always the path

Things happen

Sometimes we trip

We fall

Stumble

We’re built to over come these things

We grow from within

We spread our roots

We become stronger as we grow deeper.

We hold on for dear life

We hold our head high

And sure sometimes we get fed up but solving that is up to you

Our strength grows from within and sometimes we just can’t contain ourselves within our skin.

We all explode at times

We ooze from our natural confines.

We all suffer.

We all have pain.

I won’t lie sometimes I just feel drained.

Sometimes I feel plain

Sometimes I’m lost, confused, sad or hiding it all with booze.

At nights I fight for my life not with a gun or knife

My pen is my deadly weapon.

And honestly it makes everything better.

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