oxymoron.

hope is sometimes without itself

freedom.

Today, what's most liberating, is enclosure.

unique.

Everybody has a story. They don’t know how to put it down. Everybody has a song. But can’t figure a tune to go along. Everybody has a picture they’re just dying to paint. Or a poem or a quip that’s ever so quaint.

Everybody is a story waiting to be read. Everybody is a song that plays in someone's head. Everybody is a picture that colours someone's wall. Everybody is a something thats someone's all.

Flutter by.

We write to read.
To sow, we seed.
Tomorrow, born from today’s bad
And tomorrow was all I had.
I have done.
The bad’s begun -
The good is wrong
Noise errs song;
And the butterfly that grew today
Breathed, fluttered, and died away.
But the memory will last
I’ll learn from the past
In honour of him who fluttered by,
Who’s day of life was to temper a lie.