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Two Kinds of People
my mother told me that the world is made of two kinds of people
the ones who are lost beyond all hope who leave the world without creating a ripple
and then there are the ones that bath in sun and golden light
i always wondered what happened to those between dim and bright
the ones that float through time and space so effortlessly that they go unseen
how do you fall in love if you're like my old pair of jeans
shoved into darkness and passed over for prettier things
their bodies collapse falling like screeching violin strings
and like a broken tree in a forest no one hears them scream
their faces are painted over in careful smiles praying that they wake from this horrible dream
my mother told me that the world is made of two kinds of people
but her logic is shattered on the floor in pieces
because there are plenty of other grey undefined marks
waiting and waiting for the day that someone finally ignites their spark
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