stopped crying over
the leaves; their footsteps echoing so far
that i can't hear it
everyday.

let them go, truly.
Nothing bitter left to commemorate
but now good times makes me smile,
faint.

wished them well
for they are good, still;

become ashen and risen
like a golden phoenix
into words

known that they would too,
just a different bird.

if everything we say has been said
if everything we think has been thought
what is the point?
who cares?

the futility of the meaningless in the words
that have no depth

and i want to stop
but i keep searching

there is nothing romantic about being lost
the danger, the possibility
i could see it, the big sign but i can't get out
it goes round and round in a circle
and i cannot leave

this is not a poem
I just turned 20 and i feel lost and still do not have my **** together as I feel like all 20 years old do and should
if you are of age or older
please leave your advice, stories, words below

at this point, anything would help to keep me from freaking out about my impending doom
i appreciate it
and look forward to hearing from you soon

love,
anna

you were like a van Gogh painting
so colorful and vibrant but always so melancholy
and i couldn't always figure out what and why
but perhaps that's why i found you so beautiful

they say that when a goblin cries
it pours even in the brightest morning
when a goblin smiles
flowers bloom even in the midst of winter