Far from the light,
you, me, we live inside.
In one's own space
it's a far cry from the sun.

To show up though everyone
needs a slice of the sun.
But except one,
her beauty shines in the dark!

you are a box
that i open.
a gift
that i receive.
and it's all mine.
          (...i think...)
i can put more love into the box
and let things pile up inside.
i can bury all my pain inside
and all my fears will be hidden.
          (...but they won't go away...)
one day we won't like each other anymore.
we'll have to move on.
that means taking back everything that's mine.
but all the pain and sadness
can't be given back.
i have made use of it
and it's now mine.

What will we do when we all fall in love with each other.

When the blind infatuation seeps into our delicate skin and poisons the blood coursing through our innocent veins.

When the "mild" jealousy hides the secret hatreds behind the masks of friendship that we all so desperately wear.

When we rip our sanctuary apart from the inside out because it seemed as though it didn't love us back.

When we lose it all for the possibility of a temporary romance.

What will we do when we all fall in love with each other?

friend a,

          how are you.
          i am
          fine.
          today i made a new
          friend.
          he walks me home
          and he is in all
          my classes.
          his name is
          depression
          and for my birthday
          he said he’ll buy
          me
          pills.

                    love,
    ­                me

Thing is it's not a thing
is nothing but it cares
is at the heart of all things!

Following the first chirping
of the bird at the crack of dawn.
Floating clouds rendering
with the colour of the wind.
Take a sneak view of the day
at the first sight of the rose.
Believe it or not, the sun does it
every day every morning.
And paints the day, paint yours!
Paint your imagination, do it
as you please, the sky is no limit.

No one is behind, the sunrise
paintbrush is still wet is striving.
New every mo the time is on the move
springs in charting the full-blown spring.
The old rose is still the same beautiful
Happy with all remarks everything
till to date, it minds nothing, nothing!

A strangled cry,
A scream.
As loud as a whisper,
Screeching yet unheard.
Who's to save this damsel?
Who brought on her distress?
A heart of glass she bore.
Scattered,
Were the shattered glass pieces.
On and on she picks what she can find,
But what's lost is gone forever.

                                                       ­                           -Wayward❤