Beautiful Mess

Whether it be a day or two,

Or only a week or few,

The sun will eventually shine,

And all your troubles will be fine,

Because words matter,

And they clean all the scatter.

Poetry shows us life is imperfect,

But it can be imperfectly perfect.

When you feel a mess,

Know it is part of the process,

Autumn's leaves will wane,

But Spring's leaves will grow with fain.

These short stories are a work of art,

Humanity's expression of only a part,

Of who they truly are and the pain,

That they can embrace with no bane.