Dust

What happens when the world seems to be more full of death then of life?
And the life that we know
We wish was a dead one?
What happens when we have no choice
But to remember that our brokeness is unbearable
And that hope is a mystery
But destruction is impossible
Cause our stars are unbreakable
And we'll never not know it
Because that is the stuff
From and to we are made
That stuff we call dust
Sure as hell will not fade

Even if we beg and we plead
For the tiny specks of breath to leave our lungs
They will not leave
Because none can take away the soul of a me
Or a you
Or an i
Or a him
Or a her
Because that is what we might be made of

A smile
A laugh
A love
A cry
A person made of some stuff
Some stuff that we call dust
That no matter how broken
Is always light enough to fly

So what happens when life is just full of too much
Well, we'll break and we'll fall
But we both know that broken
Is what we won't touch

~Me