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 Apr 2018 She Writes
Star BG
I write each day until I'm dead
inside grand thoughts with pencils lead.
Scribbling with the sun of day.
Within visions, I will play.

Play to sing, and play to dance.
With my words I do romance.
My gifts grow with love and light
Now grateful, I will take flight.

Oh to move and live to write
Touching many I feel right.
Now my poem it is at end.
To your eyes now I do send.
Inspired by Natasha. Thanks
 Apr 2018 She Writes
Star BG
Life is what you make it.
How you choose to move
shapes your life.

Move in fear and doubt
and experiences will follow to match it.

Move in laughter and joy
and a stream of grand experiences follow.

Move in negative thoughts
and people will dump their garbage on you.

Move in love and you have a winning day
that allows you to fly with etheric wings.
 Apr 2018 She Writes
Rebel Heart
Daedalus once warned
Don't fly too close to the sun
Life's but a childish game
We all play for fun
(Gem from the lyric wall made into a song I have yet to hear ~BM)

(Front Page 2/11/2018)
 Apr 2018 She Writes
Kalliope
I hope someone can heal you,
I'm done trying.
 Apr 2018 She Writes
Undone
Knowing
 Apr 2018 She Writes
Undone
I walked to school today

Knowing I cried myself to sleep last night

Knowing no one knew

Knowing that was my power that I owned over everyone else
 Apr 2018 She Writes
Bailey Lewis
The light bulbs
Of the body
They can give
And take away light
But always burn the
Brightest in the
Darkest Rooms
 Mar 2018 She Writes
Marty
So sweet is your name
Gently crossing my tongue
With visions of love

So beautiful are your eyes
The stories they tell
With visions of love

So perfect is your voice
Tempting my heart to fall
With visions of love

So gentle is your touch
Sending tingles down my spine
With visions of love

So amazing are the thoughts
Of you and I dancing alone
With visions of love

Oh but the sweetest of moments
Looking deep onto your eyes
With visions of love

And love and love
And love
If only existed, but time has proved that it doesnt
i have anxiety
undiagnosed.

sometimes it feels like my head is stuffed with crumpled ***** of paper: the things I never said, the things I should have never said, the things that someone never said to me.

all of these things are written on every piece of paper
there are so many right now that no more would be able to fit
yet i can't stop thinking things, i can't stop saying stupid things, i can't stop wishing things.

i sigh I reach up to my forehead and i grasp my bangs
with my shaky hands and pull

i'm hoping one day when i do this
the top of my head will yank open
all of these crumpled pieces of thoughts
will pour out in a pile
on the floor
i will kneel down
and uncrumple each and every piece
i will read each one
until my head fills up again.
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