Little Words

A little voice asks;

“Is it a heavy day?”

You don’t have little words,

you nod your head

and hope they’ll fade away.

“Do you want to paint a picture?”

But the colours look the same,

the brush is just a brush

and your heart is sore, to the touch.

“Do you want to write a story?”

A little voice asks.

It asks with eyes that blossom,

with a melody that dances with itself

and doesn’t care who’s watching.

You care, their eyes have hurt before,

they bore down deep into your core

and you don’t feel like dancing anymore.

A little voice asks

“Do you need to cry?”

But you’ve long forgotten how

and all the little words are just so big and scary now.

“That’s okay,

tomorrow can wait.

Let’s try and survive today.”