24 Hours

Morning, dear, can burn the eyes,
But morning, dear, can be a sweet surprise.

Did you forget that morning comes?
Well, day is now here, bright the sun.

The day can bring bitter events of self-destruct,
But brilliant miracles can also come.

Did you forget that today is only once?
Well, dusk is now, a setting sun.

Dusk can bring a sad sad end to all that was,
Yet a great, soft beginning can begin.

Did you forget that dusk falls?
Well, stars shine in midnight blue sky.

Night can be a cage so awful,
But also a blanket sweet.

Did you forget it is you who decides?
Your opinion and perspective chooses you.

Senses

There is such great importance on sight,
And to see there should be light;
The blind only see the black,
We say there is something they lack.

There is such great importance to hear,
And to hear is to tell us fear;
The deaf never hear the fright,
And we say they're not safe each night.

There is such great importance to speak,
And to speak is to have values we keep;
The mute never say a word,
And we say they haven't learned.

But the blind do not judge on color of skin,
On hair, on eyes, makeup, or outside win,
Instead they decide who someone is,
By the heart that guides, that lives.

The deaf do not hear the bitter words
That come from gossip learned,
They only see and taste and smell,
And therefore, never fell.

And the mute cannot say cruel things,
And break down other's dreams;
Perhaps they can think it, but say it they can't,
And so a little seed of hope they plant.

Perhaps what we have is a bit overrated;
And what is lost is clearly understated.
So care and love, think with the heart;
It is time for us to share all our part.

Here We Are

Sunshine spreads wings, the smallest smiles,
From a tiny thing, a small thing, magic grows,
And like a dream, a laugh, a song,
There is finally something strong.
From such a tiny seed, there is a tree,
Stretching branches, a home.
The tree is home to birds,
Spiderwebs too stretch throughout its branches,
And squirrels, and other tiny things,
Find a certain type of unity.

If I could be,
Like a tree,
Then I would be strong, and useful,
But I most make do with simply me,
I can't change fate's design, at least not all the time,
So here I am, and where is strength?
There are things I cannot do.
Accepting imperfection
Is everyone's job;
^{so please care, let me learn
and help me to see me,
rather than what I am wanted to be}

Time is the best cure for destruction,
But time cannot heal every wound,
And when there is emptiness in the soul,
You must find the place you were burned,
And in time wean yourself off of hate,
Suffering is a part of this,
And so we share one companionship:
This is it; here we are.

Around

Apathy exists eternally,
Righteous cannot be,
Over and over, a cycle there is,
Under the heart, and hatred persists,
Negativity will overcome all good,
Doom to the ones who believe in hope.

After all, through trying,
Rose thorns are all I get,
Outside, there is a smile,
Unknown is the inside,
Nobody but me knows the tears;
Death, if only it would come.

Waiting

EDIT: I'd like to mention that the 'waiting' in this poem isn't waiting for death.  Read the last two stanzas to find out what the 'waiting' is for.  Thank you.

With a weak-willed thought, she
Spins and turns it around, yet
There is no meaning in a place such as this,
Blindly she wanders into pure emptiness,
But emptiness is the soul's curse,
And the blessing is love,
However both are broken as time comes.

Searching for a right that never was,
Will be, or is, an impossible quest
That will always fail, but like persist
Flies people keep trying;
Yes, we're as worth as much as the dirt we walk on,
Blood that runs red turns to either green or gold,
And is stepped on in the return
Of loss, and there are tears,
But they don't mean a thing.

She stares at the sun and she lets it get her drunk,
She turns and tilts and is just stuck,
But that's the way of the world you see: your thoughts,
They shall burn you more than anything else,
Because in love, it is tempered by hate,
For when there is someone you love,
There will be times when hatred consumes,
And you'll forget all your values and rules,
Like fire, like flames, they will become ash,
But strength comes until the very last, and
Bravely she states words unsaid,
'I will be waiting,' and dawn will begin.

As the moon disappears though it is full,
And the sun means nothing but fear until gone,
Suddenly it all speaks, and life gets a new dawn;
So with love she walks, far far away,
Looks like waiting will wait for another day,
And the ones that loved her - and she loved too! - they
Will be watching her destruction of self,
Until the world ends at least one will wait,
But when she comes back all will forget,
And on wings of gold she soars above,
While blood pools from red to green, not a pretty kind,
And all that added up consumes heart and mind.

So subtraction begins, and she forgets self,
Waiting's too hard, she decides and is lost,
And then the cycle will begin all over again,
'I will be waiting' is the sleight of hand,
The only faith that any one has,
Is that at last someone will get it right,
And as a new time begins so will faith,
And the hope that was waiting will finally say,
'I've been waiting all this time for someone to believe,
And now at last the belief is achieved,
So the gift that's been given is finally here,
There will no longer be the emptiness to fear.'

But the time will come, and come again,
And in fate's twisted humor, all will end,
And the hope that is waiting will try and spring out,
But nobody cares, and love is not what it is about;
For we all start in morals, we all start as friends,
But at long last it ends, and enemies again.
So one of these days, we can hope and we can pray,
Finally there will be a new way.