Choices for Voices

We have choices, choices, choices

to be made with difference voices.

And sometimes you speak too loud

because you’re feeling way too proud.

Other times you sit by, mute

your own horn afraid to toot.

It’s hard to tell when to take stand

or when to simply wave your hand.

You want to speak up for yourself

but may only hurt yourself.

What Are We?

I’m tired of the game

and trying to explain

just how you hurt me.

 

With all of your words

I’m split into thirds

thinking what are we?

 

Your power you flaunt;

don’t know what you want.

You keep changing your key.

 

You’re back and you’re forth

What is my worth?

Baby, what are we?

 

You’re up and You’re down

I’m flipped around;

a ship lost at sea.

 

You’re always my choice

but I’m losing my voice.

What about me?

 

Decide our plot.

Want this or not?

What are we?

2066.9

2066.9

the mountain air is quite crisp

and the smell of maples and pine

fills their lungs with something brand new.

 

At 2066 high

where the land meets the bright blue sky

and birds dare to spread wings and soar,

where they can see everything.

 

At 2066 feet

two young hearts begin to beat,

for perhaps the very first time,

together as love starts to grow.

 

Up at 2066,

above the crunching of dry sticks,

you can hear two souls come to see

without each other, they can’t be.

 

 

Escape into My Dreams

Sometimes,

when I’m up late

and I need to

come up with

a dream so I can

stop crying and

maybe get some

much needed sleep,

I dream of what

it would be like

to marry young

and finally be

able to escape

this hellhole

and never have

to look back again.

Could it really

be so easy?

Is that the price

of my freedom?

If so, I don’t think

dreams and reality

operate on the

same currency.

Not My Job

I am suffocating in your guilt.

I didn’t get you into this mess.

I didn’t cause this to happen,

but yet I’m stuck dealing

with your consequences.

It’s not my job to be your pity party.

It’s not my job to make you feel better.

It’s not my job to make you less lonely.

Stop making it sound like it is.

I have a real job

with actual responsibilities.

I don’t have the time

or energy really to

deal with your constant guilt trips.

I’ll tell you what I tell the kids:

I don’t do tears,

Man up and get your shit together.

Stop suffocating me with YOUR problems.

I have enough of my own.