Some pains don't wash with the morning rains-but stain the innonence that we were born with.
That gift of seeing the sweet honeys' of life-experiencing communicative relationships with the birds and the butterflies...
No eyes should have to cry these kind of tears.
lost years of my exsistence that I could of used growing my seeds into strong trrees!
Watching them bear fruit sweeter than the lemon-drops that often sour my mental...
Some pains don't pass like the night to the day-they stay, and play on my heart-strings pulling away at my very soul.
Hoiw cold does it have to be before we're alloted the warmth of a single hug.
Love...
Love floats above my head in a dream, and everytime I reach to hold it- I find myself holding pains of loves that disappeared before they were even born.
Some pains don't heal...
And sometimes?
Thats all I feel.

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