of all things i could write...

of all things she can forget,
she forgot how to smile.
of all things she knows,
she knows not how to laugh.
of all things she could lose,
she lost her grip on things.
of all things she can remember,
she couldnt recall happiness.
of all things she can realise,
she realised, it's too late.

of all people she can fight,

it's her, she's fighting.

of all things she can see,

she sees what could have been.

of all people she can trust,

it's her now, she cant.

of all things she can hear,

her heart echoes silence.

of all that she regrets,

genuine bliss tops the list.

when is too much, overwhelming?

when is too little, depriving?

who's to know, which is right and what not?

if there's indeed a book,

depicting right from wrong,

would we swear by it?