just an old shoe box ( The Dreamer letters intro )

What if I fall upon my knees and scream? What if i just let go and never look back? What if I’m just trying to hide my fear of not becoming who I know I am destined to be? What if all this was just a dream that my sick subconscious has been playing? What if I win at the end? Would it all stop? Or should I lose to know the truth?

They speak of God and his wisdom and what plans he has for us all but I speak of my miss-understanding of the whole image. We all speak but the difference is I speak when I need to not when I am asked. And as far as God goes for me, we are even me and him. He had his say, and I had to follow. Now I have my say and others have to watch. And that's all I have to say about that.

Along the years my pen dried as I tried to pray so many different ways to find the missing pieces of my cracked shell and yet I come across nothing. So I wait as usual to meet those that seem to have the will to change the sears that past left across my neck into an echo that vanishes. But somehow, someway, for some reason they lose the will to fight and walk. And again I sit alone and dream of angels that might watch over me one day. But all I can do is taste the salt from their tears that I imagine falling from the sky.

But I learned along the years to keep anything I felt would do me well. The best thing I ever kept was an old shoe box where I leave those forgotten days locked away so I can't remember them. Forgotten of course since no one remembers them but I only try not to. Maybe I'm wrong maybe I'm right maybe just maybe I need to stop writing, singing, thinking or even dreaming. or maybe i should simply stop caring so much. Maybe. Just maybe