Bridie.mcp2006

What is living, but waking in the morn
The same thing we've done since the day we were born
Waiting until the sun goes down
Repeat again once the sun comes 'round

What is living, but dealing with death
Knowing one day we will take our last breath
Fearing the fact, although knowing it's true
What will you do when it catches you?

What is living, but waiting for the best
Ever in need of a well-deserved rest
Always waiting for our next break
Knowing without it we will make a mistake

What is living, but enjoying food
A vital part of being in a good mood
After all it's needed to keep us alive
What is living, but trying to survive?

What is living, but making friends
Ones who will stand by you 'till the very end
Conversing with those like-minded to you
Someone to hold you when you're feeling blue

What is living, but learning a lot
Knowing what is right, and what is not
Unlimited knowledge is a blessing and a curse
What can you do for the universe?

What is living, but building a home
Finding a place that you can always roam
Feeling connected to the land and sea
Feeling the winds blowing wild and free

What is living, but seeing the joy
Brought by a baby girl or a baby boy
The essence of life and the purity of such
A simple reminder when all gets too much

What is living, no one knows
Is it the highest of highs, or the lowest of lows?
Is it the cold, clear water that I feel on my feet?
My blood is pulsing; I can feel my heartbeat.

She never liked to read,
Because she was always in her own head.
So she wrote of all the things she knew,
And made her own stories instead.

She wrote about what she knew,
Trying to describe her world.
She was so kind and gentle,
Just your average "broken" girl.

She wrote of things she hates
And reasons she wants to die.
But she eventually found joy in writing,
Once she wanted to be alive.

She used to write of broken friendships,
About the people she once called a friend.
She wrote about people who never meant anything.
Rock bottom almost saw her end.

She was in a bad place,
And any words would come out.
She made some stupid decisions;
Some crazy things she wrote about.

Her writing changed her life;
It shaped her happy ending.
The fact she wrote of reasons why
Helped her through her mending.

She worked to improve her life,
And she got some sleep at night.
For now, maybe her stories will help her,
Maybe they'll shed a little light.

So if she's having one of those days,
And she seems a little quiet
Give her a pencil and paper
And instead tell her to write about it

Because she probably can't think right now,
So give her a little time.
It's not her fault she thinks this way,
And it's also not a crime.

Everyone has bad days,
And she has them too,
So believe in the power of writing,
And she'll believe in you too.