Poetry is a stair to communication, a door to expressive thought, a way to get your point across
Lives have been lost, all for what cost? Do we even begin to understand, or even comprehend how words are hard to be said?
In the dead of night, when it’s more than all right to cry yourself to sleep
The words in your head keep you up at night, but you can’t pull them out, they just float without a verbal excommunication
People tell you to speak out, what they don’t understand is how a person can be so lost that life just floats by
Like driving on a highway, in the midst of night, when cries are only distant echoes
People are lonely we are all suffering, every morning we wake and try to escape this life full of bitter memories
And like a ghost we somehow awake form this bitter life we have been without
If words would just come out, would life be redeemed, would more people dream, of things we should all achieve?
Dreams, are wasted by time and the dirt, the bitter words that were said
If everyone loved, and honestly tried to be understanding in this hectic world we are all dying from
Would dreams not go astray, would people not feel communication was all in vain?
That because suicide is on the rise, people often feel obliged to tell you at least you were not that kid
Who decided to end his life at the point of a knife, or the girl who always sat alone, who sought a way out, of the hell hole
She ended it all when she reached for the pill drawer
What nobody ever seemed to understand, was how each and every one could be searching for something more than what they received
How as complicated as it seems we all are dancing in these mad fantasies
Escape is needed, we are betting with lives here, through the tears and the pain with constant fears
That this breath, will be our last, that somehow the past is more than just the past
The words won’t come, they never do, but people use the same excuse, of not being able to save everyone
But really life has just begun; we are all competing against the clock
If people listened, and children were given a chance to express, and confess the thoughts of their souls
Would it not be all lost, would it be more than a small cost? Life has a price, we are told some are worth the cost, and others simply just go by without even the blink of an eye
If life has the same cost for everyone, would more people try to understand those of us who need it most, or would they just try to boast and exclaim that we are all toast, failing apart at the seams, unable to stop the bleeding
Life, is a thing that just is, but what if we made the most of it, we didn't just stand here and pout, we really tried to help someone out
Would life then really exists to someone who needs it? Would their words then come out, would they want to scream and shout everything bottled up inside
For all of the lives that have been equally deprived of a listening ear, of a “it will be okay dear”
We all need hope a reason to dream, just please tell me that you still believe, that life has a cost, and people deserve not to feel compelled to die, just because no one seemed to care
Just reassure me there is still hope out there