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.
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