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Blonde hair, blue eyes. Pale skin, lush lips. Fierce as a lion, gentle as a mouse. It’s all the same, but I don’t know this person. Once she was full of joy, full of hope, but now she is a boundless fountain of sorrow. I used to look forward spending days with this now unknown stranger. Being around her and listing to her spout knowledge, staring at her never-ending beauty. Now, she is skewed. Not even a shadow of what she once was. She has lost the shine in her eyes over the years. When she draws, to the untrained eye they looks as if she has improved and everything seems right, yet I can tell that she puts her soul into her art.

Protection. Never. It’s the young that are hurt. It’s the young that cry at night. “My daddy loves me.” The cry is herd, Yet no one acts. One day a limp; One day she can’t see; One day she’s gone. “I never knew.” Yes they did. It was know along. Love. Never. Now she lays gutter. No love is shown It’s not important Another child lost Another life ruined It’s just one child It’s just one cry. It’s just one who’s body’s gone dry. Just another still doll.

The cries of the moon for the earth Call the stars to the aid Of the light of the night

“What’s my age again?” For some reason I always had to ask myself this question. Most of my life had come back to me, but there were still aspects that I couldn’t remember. Not only that, but I was completely dependent on everyone around me. For years after the accident I couldn’t function on my own. “Nineteen James, nineteen.” It wasn’t hard for me to hear the disappointment in his voice. Dad had always hoped that I would get better, but how can someone survive on their own if they can’t recall how old they are? I remembered my birthday, February 16, 1991, yet for some reason even if I counted ho

I miss the days Of boxes and grass. The days that would never end Even after the sun went down. I long for the days Of long walks under the moon.   The days that would seem to start After the moon had risen. I grasp for the times Of us by the fire singing. Yet, my reach will never Bring back those days. Will I never again See the smile I love so, Creep across your face So to make me laugh? I yearn for the days Of water and mud. Days under the trees Spend relishing in life. I miss the days Of boxes and grass. The days that are ended now Even before the sun went down.

Stars watch over you when you fall asleep under them at night. It is from stardust that we are all born into what we are today. The gasses that they produce and the colors that they have to show for all of the hard work that they must go though just so that we can survive and live the lives that we have. The stars know all that we could never understand about ourselves. We stare into the vast expanses of the sky and wonder what is out there when they already know; they know what is in ourselves as well. They know our true desires and what we will do to obtain them.   There is no person that put them there though. They are there fr