Pick Up the Pen
words filling empty thoughts
'needs' and 'wants' they tend to cross
letting our surroundings chime in
no longer do we know where we're being driven
consider every desire, but our own
can't even hear our internal tone
honesty,
has died with chivalry.
we look around before we answer
hoping someone else steps up faster
changing for the sake of image
not realizing all the damage
we listen to the moon,
that makes us take a step back.
we listen to the wind,
who blows us way off track.
we listen to the sun,
who has a different way of 'fun' .
we ignore the flowers,
who try to tell us this life is ours.
we ignore the rocks,who try to show us how to be unique.
we ignore the dirt,passing it off as simply bleak.
we ignore the clouds,who are just aiming for our protection.
we ignore anything that shows true affection.
instead of appreciating the rain,
we sit here and complain.
hoping our stories will finish themselves,
not once questioning how we felt.
should we breath for a second?
hear our thoughts come in, let them
should we listen to the flowers?
the rocks, the dirt, the rain, the clouds?
should we listen to our hearts? and then..
for once, pick up the pen.
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