Every morning she wakes up, she looks into the mirror and wishes she didn't see her face. She walks alone to school, watching the little kids smile and hug their parents as they get on the bus. Wishing that could be her. The day drags on and she has her famous fake smile pasted on that hides the tears and keeps them from falling down her cheeks. She walks down the halls while constantly getting made fun of and laughed at for her music or the way she looks. Going home alone at the end of the day is no better. Walking into a house that feels inviting to everyone but her. Glares from her parents and screams about how she is wearing too much makeup or wearing too much black, or too much bracelets. Getting yelled at for being herself. People don't understand why she doesn't talk. They call her a freak and pick on her. They push her around and make her feel small. Feeling like no one understands or that no one would care. Feeling like suicide is the only way out. She wants to end the misery of living this way. She has many scars already that will never fade away. The scars that remind her of all those hurtful words and tears shed. Of all the feelngs that she wished she didn't have to feel. She promised herself never again but she was beginning to become weak and hopeless again. She wanted out so badly that she would do anything to get that. She told herself that no one would miss her, no one would care. She picked up the blade and put it to her wrist. She had never cut deep enough to actually kill her, just even to feel the pain and to release the screams on the inside. She wanted to make the final and last cut. This was the last time she would ever do this. The knive sliced the skin and she felt the cold metal dig in deeper. She pulled away and sat on the floor. She began to slowly fade away as the blood dripped from her wounds. Her mom came in screaming and crying, and the last thing she heard was sirens off in the distance.
Death is not the end.
Death can never be the end.
Death is the road.
Life is the traveller.
The soul is the guide.
The body has death, but not the soul.
The body sleeps, the soul flies.
The soul-stirring words on death and the soul in this chapter of the Gita, let us recollect.
"Even as man discards old clothes for the new ones, so the dweller in the body, the soul,
leaving aside the worn-out bodies, enters into new bodies.
The soul migrates from body to body.
Weapons cannot cleave it, nor fire consume it, nor water drench it, nor wind dry it.
This is the soul and this is what is meant by the existence of the soul.
Death can never be the end.
Death is the road.
Life is the traveller.
The soul is the guide.
The body has death, but not the soul.
The body sleeps, the soul flies.
The soul-stirring words on death and the soul in this chapter of the Gita, let us recollect.
"Even as man discards old clothes for the new ones, so the dweller in the body, the soul,
leaving aside the worn-out bodies, enters into new bodies.
The soul migrates from body to body.
Weapons cannot cleave it, nor fire consume it, nor water drench it, nor wind dry it.
This is the soul and this is what is meant by the existence of the soul.
A beautiful garden now stands alone,
missing the one who nurtured it
But now she is gone,
Her flowers still bloom, and the sun it still shines,
But the rain is like tear drops, for the ones left behind,
The weeds lay waiting to take the gardens beauty away,
But the beautiful memories of its keeper are in our hearts to stay,
she loved every flower even some that were weeds,
So much love she would plant with each little seed,
But just like her flowers she was part of Gods plan,
So when it was her time he reached down his hand,
He look through the Garden searching for the best,
That's when he found Robin, it was her time to rest,
It was hard for those who loved her, to just let her go,
But God had a spot in his garden, that needed a gentle soul,
So when you start missing Robin, remember if you just wait,
When God has a spot in his garden, She'll meet you at the gate....
missing the one who nurtured it
But now she is gone,
Her flowers still bloom, and the sun it still shines,
But the rain is like tear drops, for the ones left behind,
The weeds lay waiting to take the gardens beauty away,
But the beautiful memories of its keeper are in our hearts to stay,
she loved every flower even some that were weeds,
So much love she would plant with each little seed,
But just like her flowers she was part of Gods plan,
So when it was her time he reached down his hand,
He look through the Garden searching for the best,
That's when he found Robin, it was her time to rest,
It was hard for those who loved her, to just let her go,
But God had a spot in his garden, that needed a gentle soul,
So when you start missing Robin, remember if you just wait,
When God has a spot in his garden, She'll meet you at the gate....