It’s like she couldn’t get out of waiting mode. She sat at her desk looking out at the darkness, listening to the distant sound of passing cars. Bands of crickets played their music through her window as she sat silently waiting

Must we do this every day The same damn thing the same damn way They say routine will comfort you Make a routine of what you do

Our world is made of digits we can't see or feel Greedy little digits I hardly think are real Everyone is running destinations unknown

He didn't make it easy when god gave me this brain. He said it will be rewarding but you won't think the same He didn't make it pleasant

The dark places in my heart find no flaw in others but highlight every misshapen piece of me. They see beauty in the eyes of the broken but to look upon my own reflection is to see what can’t be mended