Out of one
day a year
we become something
we create. And maybe
it's not who we
truly are but at least
we find ourselves the
least bit happy doing
it. The day after we
must remain such
as ourselves once
more. Maybe it's just
me but maybe we need
more joy in the world.
Something to make us
smile each day throughout.
And maybe we have such
things as family, friends
and belongings near and dear to our hearts. But I feel if we at least laugh once a day our lives will be 100 times brighter than yesterday. A smile once a day will keep the agony away. Just maybe just maybe if we find that subtle joy in our lives just maybe we will find the peace at the end of the rainbow. There is no need for futile wars with our vagrant enemies maybe they to will find shelter in the joy of peace, love, and happiness. Just maybe this might work one day but today we still have our indifference with one another. Instead of such bigotry, perhaps we need to find peace with one another. This world would be a lot happier place without mindless violence, mindless indifference, mindless opinions. Maybe it's the fact but also a crime to many to speak of such things. But here we are and were here to say. Be a better person.
About the Creator
Tony Fresia
I've Always Had an Inner Voice. No Voice Like Anyone elses.
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More stories from Tony Fresia and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Darkness of Forgiveness
There is not a day that goes by that I think you ever loved me or was I just another number in your phone to scroll pass and forget about. Were you ever happy when I was around or were you thinking of him? I see how you are right now. What happens when he's gone when he finally gets rid of you and is tired of you what happens then? You don't know how hard it is to get up everyday and know you're not there by my side. To get in the shower and let all the cold pellets touch my fragile skin sometimes I wonder why I try anymore why I shave my face to look good for my job and other human beings in the world for why I have to look professional in my everyday world. Maybe this is how others feel when they lose somebody close to them or how they feel cause they lost there other half. Maybe it's the one who loses his ribs to make his own image of what he loves and what he desires and soon it betrays him. Maybe that's how I feel.
By Tony Fresia6 years ago in Poets
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The room didn’t smell like disinfectants. Its fragrance seemed light and not overbearing. A soft mixture of lavender and mint permeated the space. No beeping machines or any tubes hooked up to four-year-old Kaleeka. Her cacao skin seemed to glow from the light over her head. The family, save for one and the doctors and nurses exited the room like a trail of saints showing their last vestiges of regard.
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