Apr 21

The Sky of Clouds

Apr 17

I rise from the storm

We all try to be a beautiful bird
Soaring through the sky.
But we put on a smile and pretend to be sparrow
Instead of the raven.
That having a broken wing is a sin.
That your voice because its ugly has no space to speak.
That breaking feeling of
Unimportance,
Alone,
Self hate,
Brings you to tears on an unsteady branch.
Then when that branch breaks
The wind rushing around you
Tells you, you can either
Fall with
Or rise again.
Just know that
You are not broken, but a bird
Who has flown through a storm.
 
Apr 08

Small Flowers

Tall trees bend down to greet me
Small flowers blossom in place of my footprints.
Long braided hair still hides my face
These eyes could see the world
But dark grey clouds obscure my vision.
No sun could ever clear the skies.
Rivers run long into the night.
Tears they fall down forever.
I miss when my heart could beat for free.
Trapped by weeds that just won’t let go
Oceans waves will just keep on crashing
Each day will keep on going
The setting sun will rise again.
 
Apr 07

What we find

Apr 04

Ghost

Apr 03

Ripped Sails

You trample over me and take my shoes,
My heart sore, yet somehow still beating.
You took me,
Wore my clothes,
Spoke my voice
And left me with a shell,
That you still tried to carry.
You took my moon,
Then stuffed out my sun into smoke,
Now I am cold and feeling worthless.
You pushed in between until I could see no shore
While ripping my sails in the wind,
Making me desperate to save myself.
I swam after you, to grab my sun and moon back,
But my heart to sore, weeped along with my tears.
Hoping that someday it will get better.

 
Mar 30

Trapped

Honey colored hair waves in the wind
Caribbean stained eyes.
Alone in a field
Dry grass rubbing along her ankle.
Storm clouds rumble over head
Strikes of purple lighting light the sky.
She tries to stand but her legs won’t move
Her thin pale dress flutters with the wind.
The storm draws nearer than rain falls
Soaking her merciless.
Giving up she falls but
Conscious of every moment.
Honey colored hair wet against her shoulders
Alone, trapped, in a field,
That is her mind.

 

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