A page out of my diary...

One at the metro stop, one at the dash stop, when at the coffee shop and one while I was just riding the train. How is it that people keep discarding their self-esteem as garbage and why am I the one picking up this mess?  Sometimes I don't think I've the energy to keep collecting these bits of humanity drenched in despair and turn them into hope...but then, I do nitnem.

I'm not even a hoarder really. So, how did I end up with so many stories? When they aren't even mine. Are principles really so awful? Are morals really a waste? I know where I stand. Which is honestly why...I have this feeling that society will just build around me. Above me. And bury me deep underground. No matter how tall I stand. 

So for now I move. Move to stay above ground. Until I have done enough that I can be still. Because if I have to be buried anyhow, I'd rather do so on my own terms. From dust we come, to dust we go. But I'm not mere dust. To earth, I shall return as I must. But only where the garden grows, flowers bloom, birds tweeter, butterflies flutter and fireflies light the way. Because even if I stood at the bottom of the ocean filled with despair, I'd find a way to grow tall enough and be a lighthouse. 

 Bury me as deep as you can,

I'll just come back as a tree,

cut me down 

make a bonfire,

I'll be a phoenix

rising from the ashes,

Shoot me down

as I fly,

I'll swallow all your arrows,

steal all my hope

do try,

nothing will make me happier,

I can not be murdered 

trust me,

I'm a soul fueled

by your sorrow,

for a while 

I did worry,

I'd drown in your tears,

then they fell in my cup

it overflowed

spilling love everywhere,

it's like the king 

who got his wish,

everything he touched

became gold,

only I wished for merriment

so that is what overflows.