I can't take your demons out of your body and fight them for you.
I can't clean this haunted house, the broken dreams and promises are too thickly webbed in the door frames.
I can't pick your soul up off the ground and sew roses into it, for they don't grow unless they are continuously shined upon.
I can't plant gardens in your heart to replace where there once was a graveyard,
But I promise you to always try.
When all I have left are those three little letters, I will never give up.
I will always remind you that the rain lets up, that you can create your own sun to grow your own roses. That sadness plateaus after the steep uphill climb, If only you keep climbing.
I can't fix all your broken pieces
But I can be here to hold the glue.
And I promise, I will always be there to try.
-S
(1:16 am)
