“Beauty is not long hair, skinny legs, tanned skin or perfect teeth. Believe me. Beauty is the face of who cried and now smiles, beauty is the scar on your knee since you fell when you were a kid, beauty is the circles when love doesn’t let you sleep, beauty is the expression on the face when the alarm rings in the morning, it’s the melted makeup when you have a shower, it’s the laughter when you make a joke you’re the only one who can understand, beauty is meeting his gaze and stopping understanding, beauty is your gaze when you see him, it’s when you cry for all you paranoias, beauty is the lines marked by time. Beauty is what we feel in the inside which also shows outside us. Beauty is the marks the life leaves on us, all the kicks and the caresses the memories leave us. Beauty is letting yourself live.”
You know that feeling? When you’re just waiting. Waiting to get home, into your room, close the door, fall into bed, and just let everything out that you kept in all day. That feeling of both relied and desperation. Nothing is wrong. But nothing is right either. And you’re tired. Tired of everything, tired of nothing. And you just want someone to be there and tell you its okay. But non ones going to be there. And you know you have to be strong for yourself, because no one can fix you. But you’re tired of waiting. Tired of having to be the one to fix yourself and everyone else. Tired of being strong. And for once, you just want it to be easy. To be simple. To be helped. To be saved. But you know you wont be. But you’re still hoping. And you’re still wishing. And you’re still staying strong and fighting, with tears in your eyes. You’re fighting.
She stretches her arms out stares up at the sky, wishing for the wings that could teach her to fly, She’s trapped on the earth here, feet tied to the ground, the forces of gravity, keep pushing her down. To the world shes one person, to one person, the world. She wants to be an angel, but shes only a girl. And though shes lifes puppet, she’ll break all the strings, but for now shes just dreaming, of earning her wings.
Dear lady, can you hear the wind blow, And did you know Your stairway lies on the whispering wind. And as we wind on down the road Our shadows taller than our soul. There walks a lady we all know Who shines white light and wants to show How everything still turns to gold. And if you listen very hard The tune will come to you at last. When all are one and one is all To be a rock and not to roll. And she’s buying a stairway to heaven.