I've cried, and you'd think I'd be better for it, but the sadness just sleeps, and it stays in my spine the rest of my life.

I've cried, and you'd think I'd be better for it, but the sadness just sleeps, and it stays in my spine the rest of my life.

I scream, but I still don't know why I do it. The sound never stays; it just swells and decays. So what is the point?

They say it's better to bury your sadness in a graveyard or garden that waits for the spring to wake from its sleep and burst into green.

I think there's a danger, for me at least, in retreating and going inward and depression. I have to stay diligent against that tendency.

If the world could remain within a frame like a painting on the wall, I think we'd see the beauty then and stand staring in awe.