The world is white.
It is full of different shades of white.
Is the world white?
Some days I feel as though the world is black, but that may just be the darkest shade of white.
I know the world has dark days, but that is all they are.
Twenty-four hours pass and the world transforms into grey.
Grey is a color of the new world that will replace the old.
A dingy, broken place becomes just a little bit brighter.
I know someday this world will be such a light grey, it will once again return to its former glory.
When that day arrives we can only hope the changing world has changed us as well to a new color.
The color of a blank slate.
The color of hope.
rainless morning, awoken by comforting delicate taps on my window
velvet curtains lifted and fragile opalescent feathers revealed
the hummingbird sings songs for you
and my heart flutters in time with the tune
thanks for reading ❤
It’s waving at
to come out. Run away from
Here. This prison, holding me back from my
I hate it Here.
I need to go. I need to run away from
I dream of the other tree.
The tree under which we promised with our
we will have each other, without having to
if we want,
we will run anyway.
The tree keeps waving at me.
*It hasn’t given up.
I won't give up.
i changed a £50 note
into pennys for you;
but you still want change.
I have eaten
that were in
you were probably
they were delicious
and so cold
***I do not own this poem or any of the rights to it; I found it and am reposting it from another cite.
Nature’s first green is gold,
Her hardest hue to hold.
Her early leaf’s a flower;
But only so an hour.
Then leaf subsides to leaf,
So Eden sank to grief,
So dawn goes down to day
Nothing gold can stay.
Some say the world will end in fire,
Some say in ice.
From what I’ve tasted of desire
I hold with those who favor fire.
But if it had to perish twice,
I think I know enough of hate
To say that for destruction ice
Is also great
And would suffice.