One of those freewrite things.

Last night was bad, real bad.

Intuition sensed it hours ago.

It seems like I'm always reaching over the dresser for the same Kleenex I used to wipe my tears from the night before.

I feel like I'm always waking up in the morning popping that same Advil pill from the migraine I woke up with the morning before.

I hate waking up to the stained pillowcase my lonely tears fell onto.

What I hate even more is knowing that they'll be there tomorrow night.

It's crazy how I remember staring up at the walls questioning my sanity.

Man, how those walls could talk.

Someone told me to pray because their heart could see mine breaking.

I told God that I needed him just this one night.

I asked to get through just this one night.

Time had never been so repetitious.

My heartbeat echoed off the walls.

Never have I endured so much pain, yet I continued to go back.

Realizing as much as I go back and try, I should keep praying.

I got my answer last night.

God said, "The first night is always the worst."

Little Girl Across The Street

My how she's grown.
Little girl across the street is nothing more than a baby, but my how she's grown!
She reeks of pulchritude; chestnut brown hair blowing with the wind.
Her eyes, hazel like her sundress and shaped to finesse.
I did always say she had her mother's beauty.
Little girl across the street is nothing more than a baby, but my how she's grown!
I've seen her cry many many tears; her strength is immeasurable.
Her intelligence is like not other; she's learned from the best.
I did always say she had her mother's soul.
Little girl across the street is nothing more than a baby, but my how she's grown!
My little girl across the street.