(This is a subject I often come across internally.  With recent world events, I question those tones when I don’t put my pen to them.  Day 251…)

Well, I’ll never get to gray hair.  And I’ll never be in the black.  But I can tell stories that most can hardly dream..

Is it selfish of me
To ignore the cries of the world
For a day or two
And walk through doors that may produce my own tears?
Do I have the right to change who I cry for in the middle of the storm?
Don’t answer that.

I understand the world needs me
What good am I to a dying world
If I don’t check to see if there’s any flesh rotting beneath the sunshine?
Sunshine only gives living things life
That which is dead is just illuminated along with the glory
And I still don’t know how much light I need to keep growing

Somewhere between watching the world burn under a magnifying glass
And burning dead roots to keep me alone
Lies that answer I told you not to give
Let’s see who I will cry for tomorrow