3 years ago100+ Views
A few times, within the years, I let my inner voice be heard. Rather then writing it down, I type it. The words I wish to tell you are not different yet they are one in the same. Whether we choose to acknowledge that whether or not the voice or words in which I speak are mine and mine alone. That is irrelevant, rather then fact. I prefer my inner voice to be a joy, in which most, I do believe, will listen. To each day that goes by, I see myself, I feel myself, growing older. Yet, in each day, I pray, as though I wish to be heard. Whether my life is worth anything, to each his own, they say. But I know, that one day, a voice will be heard, whether or not it will be mine, or yours, or your neighbors, or even the pet in your lap. A voice will echo throughout our years, throughout the generations, a voice will be heard. I fear, though our voices, will be acknowledged, or lane to rest, but to those, of a conscience heart, will our voices be known. As the many leaves that fall, and the trees grow weary, the years pass, the Autumn brings a diverse of colours, or will, grows ever stronger. The friends we make, or foes we face, the memories that follow, are all enter twined in a web of light, but carved in stone. If we hold, letting life pass us by, we will not see the aurora of colours, but a blackened soul. Life is to be treasured and full filled. Because with life, a new chapter of our story is written, giving birth, to our legacy™ #inner_voices_Lillan fallow me or bust