Even though I struggle still, always will.

Things I took for granted.
Couldn't see the tree you are.
The forest, you see, it grew unwieldy.
You forget and seperate and fantasize
of green, green grasses.
Of laughter and joy beyond compare,
of others that weren't there.
Maybe your dream came true,
even nightmares can, too.
One or both or each other.

Can't say it and won't say it
not to you.
To miss, to miss, to say things
that don't matter anymore.
It fixes nothing,
but my head is clear.
I'm singing and singing to myself
even though I struggle still,
always will.

Love and well wishes through the flags around my heart.
We're bad at predicting happiness, they say.
All along, I knew it had to happen just this way.
Another dollar, another day, another skirt floating by.
We're special because we're not. All the same.
Blood veins and childhood shame and softness within
running around and searching for a will, a reason, a way.
through it, around it, to make sense of it all.

The world isn't really so crazy, neither is love.
It's just that finding it makes you feel faint,
can run a dagger straight through.
Then there's all the ways it might disappoint you.
Expectations and demands and wants and unequal hands.
The only error is getting attached to any of it, they might say.
Attachment is the way and name of the game,
but I'm re-branding what that looks and feels like.

Trying my damnedest to be ethical and fair along the way.
I'm a scientist, you see.
Prodding and probing and swaping and trading variables.
Seeking relief, but finding tidbits and bits in the process.
So damn much to learn and retain and re-train.

Today I put on mascara and captured my hair blowing in the wind.
Captured who I was in that fleeting moment,
sitting here and still here.