a mess of melodies—making noise
inside my ears on both sides
of my head—taking
what tomorrow might have been
and making it something new,
something different.
thoughts, a mess.
fears, a test.
yet, my hope is in the next
bright tomorrow, whether it be
a mess of battles lost, or victories.
sorrows run so often deep, the joys throughout
are what keep
me here on my knees,
so still,
yet so terribly in need
of being a mess
for future glory.
