She stripped her fears away and clothed herself with courage No one could ever undress There she goes dressed in confidence Head's up high, she knows better and bold At last
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, already wrote about this before: but can it be?
hung dislike in the air unspoken the favors in the same feather interest leaves a heart broken admitting an adornment lazily better than that suspicion captains the dreamy sails been in moons and sat hold up not that I forgot to mention seems the remember you soulmated when crying belongs and screams April smothered a sarcastic note that I humor like I flow like I do not of him a think of the thinking a dumb pursue because darling my whole existence fed on that all along how could a world stance stars and align in one core wrong??? not that I die this crazy fate hate at least been found on a irony of an abandoned twenty-third -----ravenfeels
I survived a life-threatening,
Coma-inducing & memory-debilating High-speed road accident in May ‘10. I survived COVID12, The SARS-COV12. Now I even survived COVID19. I, howsoever, know what I am. I am a mortal. Perishable.
My HP Poem #1929
DEAR PENPAL PEOPLE, this number keeps haunting me---nice:]
spaced in faze spaced in shock waiting for the hit of the clock upon us jaded in here scattered in there falling deeply into depths of despair piles of threes and stashes in seven still unspoken fourteens into the floors and walls of the magnificent heavens count of one then a skip of a spree down into curses of minutes in a bunch of twisted twenty threes ------ravenfeels
after this day he starts to disappear again
where minute by minute day by day he goes back into his spot in the sky where he lets me bask in his warmth but he's greedy not letting me fully encapsulate the joy and delight he provides by taking away a minute of his light each day hopefully he doesn't hide behind the clouds on june 23 otherwise this poem is a waste if one were to even call this a poem
i get sad thinking about how the sun won't fully get to enjoy the summer season with me.
Woeful glazes sitting idle
for is one meant to be burdening another, And when the idleness breaks free then all shall falter
a magic eight ball will never tell you how to be okay. love, quinn
i hope you're well. take time to breathe and make sure you stay hydrated. you are a lovely soul, and i hope you appreciate that every once and awhile. thank you for spending a part of your day reading my words. have a good breakfast <3
I really wish
I was 23 Because then I’d finally be free Not really I’d be pinned down By worries College degrees Apartment fees Anxiety Oh wait I have that already But still It’d be better Or so it seems Than being a kid.
Or so it seems...