I've nothing smart or witty to say; no words to comfort or cheer.
I've rubbish on paper and letters in order, but nothing to amount to something to hold.
It's sentences, poorly structured, running on as if they never learned how to make an end to what they are saying, and besides, if they ended, you'd probably not notice anyway, would you?
I've nothing to add to my wisdom.
Nor have a quote to lift your aching soul. My words will not bring peace to you in such a time as this, really, there is nothing more I can do.
I cannot spill from my lips the meaning you seek nor carve out in stone any truth.
On paper, just paper, I write meaningless things; yet, you're reading them.
If I could make sense of things, perhaps, I'd tell you a road map in words so you would safely navigate to better times. I'd insure a safe journey for you. Yet, that is not how it was meant to be, so here I am, typing, and leaving cluttered thoughts behind.
I've nothing clever, or special, or life altering to add.
Just keep going, and breathing, and living.
Keep hope alive.
No comments:
Post a Comment