We can never truly illustrate our emotions in the moment,
But only the blue, grey and sometimes pink sky keeps our secrets,
Or maybe a melody or a beat holds many of our secrets,
The same beat holding not too many secrets for someone else.
Maybe a voice or a face knows my soul, or yours.
Maybe our deeds know us truly and if they could talk, our emotions would truly be illustrated in the moment.
Maybe the blue, pink, grey sky cries for us every night while we sleep.
Maybe the way we remember a melody is the same way a melody remembers us, each time it plays.
Maybe the trees only stand for us and the frogs croak because they know us and want to celebrate us.
Maybe we are loved but we just do not know it.
