Drawing hope from dry wells.
I run backwards too often.
Tripping slipping flipping
Falling harder than a ton of bricks.
Optimism drips like a faucet into dry soil.
Never quite penetrating my root.
I hold on with my failing grip.
Waiting for another one of you to pick me up...
Only to wait for the fall.
When will the clock strike understanding?
When will my shoes stay tied?
I wait for the day when you see the only thing that will complete me is you.
And I don't even know your name.
Sometimes I don't know my own.
Confusion is becoming my best friend.
Really the only one I spend time with anymore.
I guess when I find you I'll know....
Unless I'm tying my shoes.

Nice

Thanks!!!!