As I Lay Dying

There are days when sorrow seems never-ending,
Like the countless roads upon which I've driven
The price of attachment in pursuit of dreams
That I so often can't seem to remember
Yet there are days when beauty cannot be contained
It even crawls out from under ordinary things
A foreigner,
No place to go
Holding on,
Making the most,
Of what little time I have
All the wasted words I said,
In all the cities that I left,
The last act of our precious play,
Must not close with regret
I will not leave wishing I had done things differently
The moments I treasure are seldom the ones
That I planned for
And if I knew where pain hid,