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Snipes 2d
I’m praying to Stained Glass Windows
Here are my prayers
I know you can hear
You act so clever
I’m just trying to mirror
No answers to whoever
You let Karma handle what you fear
Who never seems fair
Verses as pictures
I’m just tryin to mirror
Stained glass stories
I cannot see what’s going on outside
Stained glass stories
I cannot see the truth of the outcome
I cannot see what you want me to be
Stained glass light color me
I see the air through the light freeze
I live without knowing
I cannot dye without dying
The reflection without seeing
It’s a beautiful thing
I’m praying to stained glass
Lord, please believe me
The texture ends in the scripture
While the textile dresses the style
The temerity admits to the scribbling
All while I’m overthinking everything
I rise and now the world is beneath me
The Stained Glass Windows are my ceilings
An I’m screaming you can’t handle me
Shadow 2d
A beautiful smile
Radiates the energy of the sun
Green eyes fueling the source
With the shape of a goddess
Oblivious to his truth
And unwanting of his intentions
What is to be done
When there is no control of the situation
Love adding heat to the already hot environment

Love's a beautiful thing but to others it's a predicament

Lucky for me it was meant

So hot to others that they can't
Love's a beautiful thing to those courageous enough to take it
Kitty 4d
My body is incredible
Not only do the subtle curves from inch to inch make me feel desired
Or the little waist my mothers middle age friends comment on
Or the fragile battle scars of a lifetime spent trying.

But the internal haven of complex systems
Each of which so cleverly placed.
A life source
I am my mother and fathers child
A founding force of a long full love
A miracle
Trillions of lives I may have lived
Millions of faces I would never had seen
Thousands of places I longed to go.

My body is my protector
Sheltering me from my worst instincts
To carry me through youth with agility
And to eventually carry another
But that is my choice

You cannot put me or my body in a box
You cannot tell me how to live
Or choose
Throw away your pointless cries of justification
I can’t hear you
I don’t want to hear you.
Why should a government official tell me how to be, who to carry, what to do.
My body is a vessel not yet ready for carry.

I need to carry me first
Take it a step at a time
I don’t love myself yet
It takes time
Nor do I love my body
Appreciation is the word. For now.
From the intricate designs of the birth mark on my leg
To the S shape scar on my thigh
The unanswered scar on my cheek and the moles that cover my arms.

They are mine and no one else’s
They can stay as I choose
As can it
Not he or she or they but it
Because it’s my choice

I am not an object
You do not own me

You do not own women
shuble May 7
no, i am not a first grader
incapable of knowing when to capitalize
and i type in lowercase to be nonchalant
i don't capitalize 'i' because

i am not important
my self worth is lower than the Mariana Trench
it's hard for me to even address
myself without feeling annoying

i am not more important than the word prestigious
i'm not more pretty than the word beautiful
i am not as nice as the word affectionate
i'm not as secure as the word trustworthy

it's so hard to reprogram your brain to accept
that you can be of some worth, that you can be
desirable at all after years of too much thinking
and being alone and trapped in my mind

everyday i must try my best to remind myself
that the subject of a sentence is being
complemented by the beautiful words
like the way a close friends complement you

i have to remember that there are people there for me
even if my head tries to tell me otherwise
it's a struggle every time, but
'I'
just have to try
it's hard sometimes to remember that everyone has worth, even yourself...
clementine May 6
far across the scintillating galaxies,
a dying star fulminated, blasting celestial fantasies.
then, a pulchritudinous nebula was born
and woven constellations she wore.

the moon hung like a chandelier in her eyes,
studded with jewels like diamond stars.
splendor interstellar dust swathed around her ivory skin,
virtue and intelligence she always has from within.

her mellifluous voice sends you to a place full of gentle breeze,
where azure firmament embraced few puffies
made of cellulose fiber and soft creamy cheese.
and with a touch of her fingertips, you’ll see cerulean seas.


she’s someone that you’ll always remember
for she makes learning as her adventure.
and her euphonious words
that shakes your mind and your world.

she’s the universe’s child.
The morning is so beautiful it’s like a sigh of relief.
The morning air is like medicine that is my belief
I say this because everything is calm and the sky is so pretty.
With reds and pinks and the orange sun, to miss it, would be a pity.
I love to hear the birds sing their beautiful songs like nature's melody.
To hear it, it’s like a soul restoring remedy.
So enjoy the beautiful morning while it lasts.
Because before you know it the morning will pass.
Butterflies can’t see their own wings
That’s why they don’t know how beautiful they are
Maybe you’re a butterfly too
You just don’t know how beautiful you are yet
I saw this written on a scrap piece of paper in a library, I think it means a lot to some people
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