Star687

Life is like the marshmallow in the s’more

First you have to take one out of the bag

Then stab it on a stick

If you do it wrong

The marshmallow drops into eager flames

You can start over

Before

I had dreams

I had compassion

I didn’t care what anyone thought

I laughed more often than not

I cried over things that mattered to me

Under the green jungle crown 

you silently go, 

Shimmers of light pattering 

down onto your soft, worn skin. 

I wish for a day where my dreams do not change for each day of the week.

But perhaps I do not.

Because some days I wish for a future where I am always busy, in a city that sleeps even less than I do.