once again, i am reminded of the smallest things that make the world a better place.

 no matter how cruel it can be,

 somewhere, there is someone who finds beauty in simplicity.

in the sunlight passing through the trees,

 in the trinkets that they kept for years,

in the tangible things that stay even when memories don't.

 i think it's awfully beautiful to live, knowing that we wouldn't know what'll come next.

yet we can still choose to dream— to cling unto that little hope that tomorrow might be better than today.

parts of it are just the secret anticipation for the next sunset,

 or the outfit religiously reserved for a special day,

and maybe the letters kept hidden in a cardboard box.

i think these are what keeps us sane; trying to live a life that's worth dying for