Bits of Peaces

*We’ll never know who we really are until our story is over.
Each person we encounter becomes a part of our life;
Ultimately becomes merely a decoration in the background of our memories.
Some making longer brushstrokes, some leaving deeper grooves into our spine
Most won’t even make it into our minds. But the ones that do??
So far none have stayed for too long. Even the ones I wanted to.
But they live with me as part of who I am,
Shades of stain engrained into monochromatic landscape murals.

*My life is just an engraving, slowly fading from the inside of my skull.
The paths I make and the methods I take are all mine to determine.
There is not just one way, or a good way, or a kind way
To really know who you really could become.
If you try. I mean REALLY try.
If you find something worth fighting to become
And then fight to become it, to find the true version of yourself
You actually want to be.
Like a 3-D image standing next to a stick figure drawing made by a 5 year old.

The palms of our hands are sketches
Of the lives we’ve lead, the way we’ve held on to things
The ways we’ve bent and folded
                                                    and pulled ourselves up from the abyss
Then pushed ourselves up from the ground
                                                              after crawling our way out of the gutter
The way we’ve twisted to shift the weight of our loads
                                                                            that we wearily carry through the obstacles
While climbing and clawing our way to the top.

Take my hand and walk with me Maybe we can set each other free
I’ve spent too much of my own life Waiting for the world to pass me by
But I’ve crossed the mountains and the deep blue sea searching for the man I need to be
To stand up for the things that matter to the man that I really want to be