Awstun

GRAVITY, The world's natural pressure. Always there, always present. What keeps us down, What keeps us from floating away. Some times we think we'd be better without it. Moving freely, no locked rules. But lacking control. No ground to stand on. Just. Floating. The pressure keeps us controlled. Keeps our feet on the ground. It may some times cause us to fall, But it's also what allows us to get back up. If we couldn't fall to the force, We'd never get back up. We'd never stand on our own. We'd never be under control. Too much gravity crushes us. Too little gravity gives us no foundation. Just the right amount of gravity, Lets us

All alone,    Solitary,          The world looks bleak. Broken stone,     Arbitrary,          The clouds slowly leak. Rain drops the clouds' words, Pitter-pat down the roof. Cut the sky into thirds, Form together a sooth. The puddles their tales, Collections of thoughts. Their subtle entrails, Recognition they sought. But with her,     Captivated,          The rain can still speak. Together,     Appreciated,          The world is not bleak. Finds meaning to each drop. She proves the world is sublime, That if the rain is where I stop, I won't see the after's sunshine.

To look through the heart, To split though the vein. Find from the start, The bottled up pain. Thoughts burst the seams, A handful if blame. Drip down the dreams, Old hope leaves the stain. Unerase-able, Unclean-able, Irreplaceable, Unmeaning-ful. It's a fight by the brain, A war waged by the heart. Answers found in the stain, Can you find the hurt's start?

Why don't the quiet ones talk? Don't judge a book by its cover. Words beneath the face six-feet-under. Roads we choose, but don't always walk. Why don't the quiet ones yell? Cause and effect, not theory but fact. Cause for respect, self-esteem they lack, Oh, the stories that they could tell. Why don't the quiet ones speak? Past experiences, all so savage. Oh the hopes that they've ravaged, Always when hopes are at their peak. Why don't the quiet ones pray? Their words always heard from above. Maybe all they want is somebody to love, For the quiet ones have the most to say.

Why doesn't she know? A short piece of heaven, Dark red tinted hair. Scale one to ten?; Eleven. With beauty to spare. Why doesn't she know? Her face a pinnacle, A smile to make me melt. Her words uncynical, Eyes I can see are heart-felt. Why doesn't she know? Always open ears, Always ready to listen. Through empathetic tears, Through hazel eyes that glisten. Why doesn't she know? She makes my heart glow, Even knows when I'm mistaken. Why doesn't she know? That she always has my breath taken.