Tomorrow isn't happy to see you cry.

Today feels somehow responsible for the mess you look.

Yesterday has become expired and incapable of letting all that go.

But, before you cut the strings of your violin of lifeline

Look above your head, smile, and pray

And look down again.

Do you see a thousand marks of failure crisscrossing on your once smooth hands?

Do you notice those blemishes of faulty hopelessness?

Do you look at the scars on your face and the distorted short, silky strings of protein filament?

Now, close your eyes and think of the smile you gave to your mother's heart.

The warm embrace you gifted to your old father.

Do you see them?

They are there, in your past moments and besides your present traumas

But they have their existence in you,

Safely kept in a safe called Mind.