Who needs a crutch?

Your alive.

You stand out.

So loud.

Where to go, tonight the sun shall see your smile.

Somebody’s hands.

Hold your breath and hang on tight.
This is my favorite part.

Your heart.

The sun glinted off the waves. The air felt fresh and clear. If you listen closely you can still hear the call of the birds. Greeting the sun in the morning. The flowers smell so beautiful and the grass tickles your toes. It’s a beautiful kind of place.

I wake up exhausted. Every morning. As I stand and look out the windows. It is raining, grey buildings and honking horns greet shouts of tired people. In this city we don’t sleep. Each morning it’s always the same, no beautiful songs or caresses.

Each shoe slips on tight. The tie feels like a weight on your chest.

Coffee. It’s a poor substitute for purpose.

Meetings and phone calls. Not exactly friendship.

The sound of the microwave pinging. Birds sound sweeter.

5 oclock a fake kind of freedom.

And as you head home and stop at a corner. The sound of music and laughter makes you turn, and lit up signs give the suggestion of a sun. Drawn by the warmths of smiles.

Until morning, then sleep with empty pockets. Waiting for another day of mistakes and illusions.

Squinting against the light and holding your head to keep it from spinning. Someone pulls in front of you. Brake lights. Screeching. Much larger holes in your pockets. Upset you get out of the car and go to give them a piece of your mind.

She stops you. In a world where nothing is real. She is a dream.

Don’t worry about it. Your broke. Your late. Nothing matters so much as talking with her while you wait for the tow. The bar lights are far dimmer than her smile. And you wake up. To your sun.

The air feels fresh and clear. If you listen you can still hear the call of the birds as they greet the sun in the morning.

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