Redacted Processes

I've got nothing at this late hour.
Just empty bottles and exhaustion...

I have reasons to smile,
a couple to cry
and every reason to live
and just a few to die.

What more can I write?
What else should I say?
The words were never mine,
the path was sometimes a choice
but everything
is heading to a climax,
something unseen.

I won't be sitting with the haughty,
laughing at the end.
I might just be in the background,
pushing on
and hoping to bring some help,
a touch of healing to this diseased world.

Words.
Words.
Words.

Proper use and abuse.
Too much and too little,
with everything You have ever seen and lived.

Dreams and poetry,
hope with broken wings,
flying over jagged glass
that has overflowed into waves.

Breathing can be difficult
from such dizzily heights
and hope for nothing and everything.