the cement is long and goes on and on
house after house, block after block
the cement is long and goes on and on
the smell of the lives lost lingers in the ground
the waste of the people lost, leaves smells
the tears they mourn because they cannot even cry
hopeless is after the last tear
the ones who own keys to the doors that line the cement
they unable to see the dirt that has become a home
this place is what gives him the ability to own
a place for his waste
we all have a reason to look away
that's just today
but if we look really hard at not searching~~ through looking....
breathing is an act of opening up and taking in
turn your eyes into your lungs and begin within
there are so many flowers all around
flowers that come up over night just like people in the chance
what has a more beauty a flower or a person
could it be they relate to the other's soul
one helping the other to not feel so old
what if we could be the flower that could
even though the cement is long , the flower finds a crack
it pushes up thru the smallest opportunity
to blossom it's beauty, in the length of on and on
yet its green hums and it's color sings
a different tune than the smell of the land
if a soul were to be a flower
we wouldn't count the keys of the doors that line the street
we would push pass the keys and find the heart
the original birth of the key in the door
the flower that could is sometimes weak
but with just enough time it gains strength
it never rushes itself into panic
it knows its purpose and with caution never abandons
the flower that could brings with it invite to life
never alone and rich in price
valued and adored by all who know
the miracle of a Son that allowed her to grow
the flower that could lives its entire life with a purpose
sometimes the purpose is not the celebration
the beauty of flower has encouraged
has found itself on stage
and because of its simple beauty
i shall not be afraid
but yet i shall be like it
put my feet in the dirt and take a grip
I am the flower that could
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