Everytime my heart sings a tune
And the sound comes out tortured
Everytime my pen writes a poem
And the words come out twisted
I die a little
Everytime I extend my hand of friendship
And it gets slapped down in disdain
Everytime I spread the gospel of love
And it gets shouted down
I die a little
Everytime I communicate across the divide
And I am misunderstood
Everytime I want to embrace one who disagrees
And I am pushed back
I die a little
Everytime I die a little, scarred and hurt
And the heart weeps silently
Everytime I spring back like the phoenix
And I resolve to keep on trying
I am thankful to be living
HAPPY THANKSGIVING
Fleeting Muse 