It Is Not My Voice

Her heart is big, But it slowly beats quiet, Fun filled moments fading into strangled memories, Like springs falling into a valley. She feels like singing a new song and writing poesy, Before her lay important things looking insignificant, Eddying like a familiar spirits, Swinging her back and front like a pendulum. She closes her eyes to visualize home, God and school, Again, her reminiscent memories raise her spirit, And falls her hope, The threats of unfair and uncertain life, And the lyrics from unfinished songs keep calling. Under the desolate surface of the moon, And tonight, She hears a voice whispering words soothingly balmy, Making her stronger than pain, It is not my voice, But it blazes the trail to better days with no more tears.