Poems emerge from the darkest of moments Never have I seen someone so happy they write I only sit down and think of these words On nights and days when it hurts
Poems exist as a means to cope With pain so intense it grants inspiration The greatest of poets lived the worst of lives But a pen and a paper aren’t enough to survive.
at 4 in the morning the sun is never up but i usually am
i worry about things that are out of my control even more about things that are
get up early when i work and earlier when i don’t the older i get the more i learn sometimes you need to cry it out
alone at night into your pillow the blankets wrapped all around you
sometimes you need to cry and cry and cry
until the morning sun falls across the tears dried under your lashes
and the lump in your throat has dissolved so you can breathe with ease
you need to get up let hot water wash it away let the steam rising from your mug soften any sorrow left around your morning eyes take a deep breath don’t mention it to anyone
She picks sunflower blooms, humming a tune While dodging drops of rain Hoping the move will heighten the mood And bring about a perpetual change
She spreads the petals in the morning meadows In hopes the rumors are true With the yellows and greens, mixed in between She'll release the color of blue