And plastic smiles
That are a pain to wear.
Beyond forcing words that aren't there.
Well you don't have to say a thing.
With mascara running, hair undone
Tears can't wash your beauty away,
Brokenness can't mar it.
You don't have to impress me,
Or worry about raw moments I see.
Because I want to be there,
I choose to be here for you.
Imperfection permeates this mortal state
We find ourselves in.
We can't always win.
Life is pain.
But I am here.
And know that I am broken with you.
I am with you,
On this quest for betterness.
Let’s Hear It For The Irish - You could probably tell by my last name that I am not of Irish descent, but I was born in 1952 in New York City and I know its history. I truly believe the...