How does your garden grow?
With don'ts and can'ts,
and dying plants,
And feelings you should not know.
Does it grow too fast,
But never last,
And promise to stay but always go
Have the weeds crept in,
Or have they always been ,
In the places they should not go
Tell me how does your garden grow ?
With can'ts and why's,
And annoying flys,
And water that does not flow
Tell me why should my garden grow ?
I feed it right ,
Pull weeds from sight,
And all dispite an endless feeling of woe.
Tell me will my garden ever grow?
Jul 17, 2018
Jul 17, 2018 at 8:44 AM UTC
I talk to my flowers and tell them they're beautiful because if I don't, how will they know .
Jun 20, 2018
Jun 20, 2018 at 6:36 AM UTC
I take my coffee black,
because like you it doesn't need any embellishments to Improve its
already perfect form.
Every sip is a punch to my gut,
Awakening my body and mind.
A beautiful tonic to get me through the diurnal course.
The smell bringing back a flood of happy memories stashed in my brain for a rainy day.
And there you are on this rainy day, with your cup of coffee curled up on the couch, staring out into an overcast sky.
Your morning hair pushed to one side, except for that one little piece,
those rebel strands, that refused to behave, and hang over your eye as you sip your black coffee .
Apr 7, 2018
Apr 7, 2018 at 9:18 AM UTC
I want to cry.
I want to scream.
I want to crawl into the safety of my bed where no monsters can get me and whitewash my brain with videos of kittens taking their first steps.
I'm hungry but I don't want to eat.
Those victims don't get to eat.
Never again will they taste pizza or drink a soda or crawl into their beds to hide from the monsters and watch videos of kittens taking their first steps.
I'm sad.
I'm ******
I want to hug everyone that's been hurt.
I want the hurting to stop.
I want everyone to be ok.
Apr 4, 2018
Apr 4, 2018 at 9:56 AM UTC
To her he may be a man
But to me that's a king at the end of her hand
And it ****** me off cuz she'd never understand
How I could love him so much deeper than she ever can.
Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 8:53 PM UTC
The what-ifs and the whys creeping through your mind like tiny black spiders crawling between the walls in your brain , trying for a spot to set up shop ,to spin their webs.
You push them back, back behind the drywall out of sight.
But if you're not careful they will multiply. filling the spaces, the unattended places waiting to catch the beautiful flying thoughts that ought to be free.
Those hope's and dreams caught, struggling to free themselves from a web of can'ts and shouldn'ts.
As daunting a task, you rip the drywall, exposing the spider and clean house.
You must patch the walls and start anew.
Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 6:41 PM UTC
The hollow.
The sound of my paining voice bounces off the walls of an empty void like like echoes in a cavern.
I speak but it falls on busy ears.
Their eyes and
Their minds and
Their hearts in three different places.
I truly believe you can feel a heart breaking.
The glass is half full but its filled with poison.
I laugh with myself
I cry with myself
I lie to myself it's all going to be ok.
Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 6:23 PM UTC
At what age did you feel I didn't need, or deserve the pleasure of feeling special
At what time did your giving a **** run out of quarters
Why is it always me that has to crane and strain to pat myself
on the back
Somehow my extra effort makes your lack there of worse
And it ******* hurts.
Apr 1, 2018
Apr 1, 2018 at 6:16 PM UTC