cold confetti
fused flakes of  f r o s t
onto her silk splashed skin
and her lucidity  longfully l o s t...

a ****** braided bun
mantled the misty move of  m a g i c
under the navy novels  of the night
flowing on the fiber of her floral  f a b r i c....

a seamless, sastrugi sky
crested colors of celeste and cobalt  b l u e
warming a wild wave of magnetism
melting the magnolia mist of the daisy  d e w...

if we are

  created from dust,

     dust is gold,

        why should we

             think of yourselves

                     any less?

Every day I always
pray for more.
I ask myself
what I am getting up for?

Every day it's the same,
no excitement, no fun.
Most days are cloudy.
Just wish something could be done.

I do have hope for the future,
but it never seems to come.
Every day makes me feel
so idiotic and so dumb.

Wishing is my only chance
for this to not be this way.
Although this is my current life
every single day...

Every step you take
takes you to your next destination.
Some roads may be straight or curved
or some sort of alternation.

You will come across many bridges.
Some up high and some on the ground.
Some will navigate you to beautiful sights
and some will have scary, creaky sounds.

Bridges enlighten you on a new paths.
You don't know where that will be.
Each bridge will tell you something.
You just have to step forth and see...

Twisted, golden curls
bounced on her red, silk dress.
A theatre full of surprise and tension.
Everyone dressed in their best.

Iced sequins glistened
as she strutted her way in.
Dark, leather seats cushioned her body
and the show was ready to begin.

She imagined her life so grand
like the gorgeous actress on stage.
Living a tale of majeed ventures
unraveling after each page.

Gracile finger tips tapped with wit
on the charred arm rests.
Music so melodic and mighty
mulling of the plot's earnest quests.

Her eyes blinked and a tiny droplet
streamed when the play was done.
Another one to be portrayed,
who knew what was to come?..

tiny, troublesome fingers
touched the tips of my tears.

your blue, radiant eyes
oversee the brews of my fears.

I look to my little baby,
my precious baby girl.

I never want to see you cry because
you have no father in this world.

never want to see a droplet
surpass your eye.

never hear your father
say his last good-bye.

that he would welcome you
with warm arms.

or to never lay a hand on you
causing you harm..

may his blue, radiant eyes
be forever yours.

that this man can give
you so much more...