Life and Labels

Life often speaks in rhythm and blues, whispering trumpets to bended ears while reminding us that smiles belong only in photographs and tears. Behind the curtain of an indifferent face We walk fine lines between tragedy and genius. Lines so rarely straight, we seek balance in mediocrity and solitude in unfinished lives. We become incomplete puzzles forcing squares into circular places; tearing away pieces of the whole and conforming to the empty spaces, Some things were never meant to be changed. We place people into boxes, neatly organizing them by the labels; we give their cracks and flaws seldom ever realizing that broken has a beauty on it's own And some things were never meant be mended.