The Saints

She needed to tell her story.
Well, not only hers really, but everyone’s.
She needed to tell the World’s story.
Well, actually, the story of human hearts becoming Saints.
Most of the time, it’s out of this Earthly World.
Out of all the stories, virtue usually takes more than the luck of a four-leaf-clover.
Water isn’t needed by Rivers that are already fertile.
Just as long as no one stomps on the plants, they could grow forever.
She needed to talk about these people.
The Lovers, the growers, and the devoters that bring rain when it stops pouring.
Stories she could tell with the thoughts of her brain.
Spread the word like Saints grow flowers with or without the rain.
So back to what this poem is supposed to incorporate.
Back to gardeners who stick by to seed the land named incompetent.
A tree with round and wide leafs waits for them at the top of the stairway to heaven.
But stepping stones there will be I’m telling you with Line sixteen.
It’s not called a stairway for nothing.
The Saints must persevere to witness something.
Sticking by what you’ve found to love means waking up to life as a real beauty.
Waking up like you really want to be somebody means embracing the beauty with the beast.
She’s just saying everyone needs a reason to live.
This poem only means as a kudos to those using their life to give.
Loving every moment and every person like it’s their last chance.
Living the best life they can because they’re not afraid to choke.
She just wanted to say thank you for being an authentic person.
Giving thanks to those who live life free is this poem’s only lesson.
Dreams built up inside of you will only one day start to scream.
So please just get out there modern day Saints, make the darkness gleam.
Shine so bright like you’re out of this Universe to inspire change.
Just promise the girl in this poem, you won’t say you can’t.

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