The rest is me

Dreams of glitter and gold.

My heart has been already untold.

In my many writings and weak lil poems.

I do dream.

I do believe.

In glitter and gold.

And the rest you know.

Angels do hover above the melody.

And the rest is me.

Should I say that or this?

Should I be quiet?

Should I reveal my discontentment?

Should I stay quiet?

Should I praise God?

Or change my habitat?

Should I share my joy over this and that?

Should I share my memories?

The rest is me