You can dwell
Twisted in the dark, sinuous vines
Of disappointment.
It is easy
To let them hold such
Power over you.
And it is hard
To gain power over yourself.
It is even harder
To realize you always hold
Power over yourself.
It is easy
To allow yourself to scream
And cry
And swear
And say things you’ll
Regret
When you’re angry.
And it is hard
To smile instead.
It is easy
To succumb to the sharp talons
Of sadness.
It is easy to do
Nothing.
To sleep it off,
Or to drink the hurt.
And it is hard
To see the world
By yourself
When you feel desolate.
It is hard to
Appreciate
Silence.
But you can.
And if it were easy
Everyone would do it.