Sometimes the night can be your best therapist. For the moon is free, and always there to listen.

The world is not falling apart. Although, sometimes it may seem that way.

Damask roses and white picket fences,a childhood ripe with an array of senses.Forest black against starry skies,Pink clouds dusting an early sunrise.Hundreds of days slipping through hourglass years.The sands of adolescence fading with solemn tears.Oceans of certainty ebbing away, Lessons learned regardless of one's place.

In this forest called life, sometimes there are no goodbyes, no proper sendoffs, no wishing for a next time; just the knowledge that this departure will never be set right.