looking up at the sky, wishing to be a part of is what we all dream of— then come those who stitch up their feathers to fly; to prove that you can own that sky with your efforts rather than chillin' if we really desired for the sky, we had been one of those but sadly, we can't make a difference though it's not late
in the winters, the marble floors they feel cold my bare feet they are frozen i cannot move they are stuck.
in these twenties, the only warmth fabric of cardigan I pull these sleeves till seems cover my fingers touch the knitted threads to feel beyond the numbness of my palm.
the cool sensation touching my face the melancholic air disturbing my stare tree without leaves the somber look the bone chilling stare back from a girl sitting on the marble floor by the mirror looking dead.
If only I wasn't such a freak then I could explore the world every day of the week. being constantly stuck in this place I call home, I just sit and watch the other freaks roam. all the normal people have someone to love, and I'm stuck here talking to the angels above. maybe if I looked different I would get treated better, or pretty and famous then my fans would write me letters. but normal is not absolutely in my inside, and I don't wanna act like something I don't define. but it's okay to be different because different is better, whether it's pretty or not like an ugly sweater. being a freak doesn't make you weak, being the same will always make you lame. realize this cause this is who you are, and finding the truth isn't so far.
Sleep seeps from my finger tips With chilling thoughts, my mind amiss No matter how much heat I ingest I digress, and fade into cold extremities Only a few times, have I know The name of tired as well as this
"i wanna be in the company of people i love and just like chill playing smash or just sleeping and napping laughing together watching movies together something that doesn't involve too much movement" - a text from a friend
Chilling, like a cold Winter breeze, as it rustles Sound through pine trees Circling in repeated motions Swaying and reflecting Different angles, and Different emotions
Gradually moving from side to side Not faltering, but continuing stride Against the current Against the waves Against the runner
Pushing him back Almost forcing him to fall And beckon in the tracks of another But wait...
How will he get back up?
That's the question we always Ask ourselves, looking at Others from a third person View, but from the eyes Of wind, nothing else exists
Think about that for a moment Invisible, yet so strong Something to put our lives In full perspective The thought of a force That can break us down In a moment's notice And just like that Suddenly, it's gone Nowhere to be Found...
This poem originally had a different ending, but then I wrote the ending shown above. It's one of my more personal favorite poems.