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 Nov 2015 Alyssa Rose
Bria Grimm
With turbid minds
And mercurial hearts,
One must never forget
To stay close to a flame
That burns to warm
Opposed to burning to
End.
In this life, there are sources that warm us and guide us. On the contrary, there are sources that are selfishly driven and would have no problem burning  us and everything else to ashes.
Silence is the best way to oppose

no argument and no noise pollution

but, we should be good in dealing with it*

or else people think we agree with them
You don't understand it.
you won't understand it until they tell
you they'll save you and then never
show up.
until you feel the glass shattering inside you.
trying to tear down walls that won't budge.
people start thinking you're better and
you smile and nod because you
even start to believe the lie.
You become your own scary movie.
and they don't understand because
you're fine.
you always were.
they don't know you're made of broken glass
and that's fine because
they wouldn't understand.
Animated patterns of light and dark,
quavering here on the wall beside me.

Through this window glass
from another century,
denuded branches
dance --
But only apparently.
©Elisa Maria Argiro
 Nov 2015 Alyssa Rose
Lyteweaver
I wish I may
I wish I might
Hitch aboard a spaceship flight
And launch myself right outta sight

I'd buckle my strap
and sit back firm
Look out the window
See Earth as a blur

The stars become stardust
As I fly through their space
It's me arriving home
knowing my place

My fingers
My heart
My toes and my face
My flaws
and my fears
combust and erase

I peel off my skin
Its heaviness discarded
My spirit spills out
The Cosmos unguarded

I'm finally home
an ethereal garden
Fairies and flowers
Fields and streams
Mountains and Gnomes
It's the place from my dreams

Born of the Cosmos
Divine DNA
I often forget I can fly here
any time
any place.

Flights available each moment
each day
I just have to breathe
look up...
"* Are You headed my way?*"
written after a nice afternoon of reading from The Prophet and Letters to a Young Poet. Sincere gratitude to the authors that have shaped me and my vision!
I often fear the idea of being forgotten,
being pushed onto the sidelines, out of sight and out of mind.
I fear that no one will say my name as if it were a song that echoes through my very soul.
And they will not tell the story about how I got the scar on my cheek or the time I nearly drowned in the pool, because I will no longer matter.
I will no longer matter one day- and that scares me.
-o.b
Please don't forget me.
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