Your’s are the words written on my soul,
All the feelings and thoughts,
that I can’t control.
They are the words whispered in the dark
Of hopes, and loves, and dreams, and stars.
No promises, no pledges,
Just secrets.
Whispered in the dark.
If you write a story,
I’ll read the words,
If you say the lines,
I’ll think of birds,
Soaring through the sky.Click here to view video“>a href=”videofilename.mov”>Click here to view video
Being a teenager is about identity. Finding it, changing it and losing it.
The day before I heard Nelson Mandela had passed on, I read a quote of his from his 1994 book, “A Long Walk To Freedom”:
“No one is born hating another person because of the colour of his skin, or his background, or his religion. People must learn to hate, and if they can learn to hate, they can be taught to love, for love comes more naturally to the human heart than its opposite.”
Thank you, Mr Mandela.
Somewhere in the world,
the children are laughing,
but in other places,
they cry.
