Untitled.

Awhh! This brings back memories. This is actually the first real piece of "fine literature" I wrote. I think I was around thirteen years old then. I know it's corny. But most of my other stuff is, too! :]

There comes a time
For joy and laughter.
There comes a time
For tears and disaster.
These times will have
To come and pass
But there's always an essence
That will linger and last.
You fight the bad
And cherish the good,
But you never can feel
Like you think you should.
You think evil should leave
And delight should stay longer,
But what doesn't kill you
Makes you stronger.
Bereft of courage,
You run and hide,
And all your mistakes
Are pulled in by the tide.
But it's really you
Being pulled from the shore.
This is it . . .
A futile war.
You try to swim
But don't know how.
All of your knowledge
Deserts you now.
You fight for your life
And the memories it holds.
You drop your eyes
And embrace the cold.
You bring your glance up,
And as you do,
You notices life's Hope
Beckon to you.
You quickly dig deep
And search within,
Past your flesh
To your deeper skin.
You pull yourself back
Towards the ebb and the flow,
Through the waves of the things
You didn't let yourself know.
Your skin is soaked
With things from your past.
Your heart sorts through it
And finds all of them should last.
You learn from mistakes
And the things you regret.
And you then find yourself
Not trying to forget.
It's a whole new you,
And it feels so good
To have everything feel
The way it should.