able
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At 12:49 in the morning, I am asking myself why I write. Why do I write songs? Why do I write essays? Why do I write letters to my loved ones?
At 12:52, I am answering;
I am allowed. I am able.
A genuine smile stretched cheek to cheek
When she realized the haze that had made her so weak
Was gone from her life, thrown away just to be
A memory: undoubtedly sad but finally!
You’d be surprised how much power we have over our own minds. I imagine survival back before our times and the development that required. They used their brains and had too. Using each part and functioning as one form.
