she makes life beautiful

she
has the power to rule my skies
she
can make life beautiful
she
can make life miserable
but she doesn't.

she
oftentimes makes the questions
she
nevertimes eases the answers
she
can stir the jealous bone of a saint.
and sometimes she does.

she
never asked for anything
she
may not be perfect
she
could not have flaws
she
wants to be noticed
and she is.

she makes life beautiful
she makes life bearable
she makes life bountiful
but also she
who has all the power
has none.

sometimes i think that i would be better off if i never spoke another word.
i speak too much.
i write too little.
i keeps too much.
i trite too little.

sometimes the cliche is all that is left
and sometimes one can break the mold.
i don't do either it's not worth anyone's time.

sometimes jealousy can get the better of the guy that never meant to even let it get the worst.
and why? fear? loathing? fright? hoarding?
more a safety net for hiding the true nature of the problem.
knowledge

knowledge that she makes life beautiful
and she can take that away.
but she doesn't.

sunflowers don't rest, they always bring happiness.