There are times when it seems like

My mouth is filled with buzzards

And I can't make sense of the words 

That come and go like the wind;

Sometimes there is too much wind in my chest

And I can't seem to catch a single breath,

Much less calm the storms that ebb in my hands;

But listen,

I've got two wagons out back filled with all of our hopes and dreams,

And they're going to pull us along like oxen,

Or maybe we will pull the wagons like we are strong circus men,

Our hands are calloused with words we don't know

Or maybe the lines on our palms are lines from stories

we have yet to hear.

I keep telling myself its okay to be afraid,

It's okay to cry in front of our fears

as long as we pick up our wooden swords and swing

with all our might, as long as we eventually turn on a light.