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Peace Aug 29
I've acquired growth. So much so that my lips cannot form the words. I am speechless, stuck in a continuous path of change.

I've acquired such loss, yet my eyes see a ray of hope. Light beyond the tunnel, past the bridge.

I've acquired strength. My arms unable to carry the load which my shoulders have grown to handle.

I am no longer the same.

Willing to take risks.

Climb.

Build.

My, have I changed.
Simply put.
hello my name is Oct 2018
What do you do
When you don’t know what to do?
When you normally know what to do,
What to say
Only this time you don’t
Do you start from the beginning?
Or work your way backwards from the end?
Do you rely on the past?
That’s worked before
Many times
But what if this time it doesn’t?
What if this time you make things worse?
You’ve done that before too.
You could guess
But then again
Don’t you always guess?
Isn’t every successful venture
Just a series of correct assumptions?
If that’s the case
How do you formulate a correct answer?
Is that even possible?
An educated guess is still a guess
Deductive reasoning won’t always be right
So what is?
How do you know?
You don’t.
And isn’t that just perfect?
winter sakuras Feb 2018
As I developed, they shaped me,
as if I had been a block of clay
sitting there on the jagged concrete of
unpaved streets and endless roads.

My future form dependent on
the timing of passing strangers'
beginnings and endings,
their risings in the mornings
like the blue and orange horizon
spreading in preparation for the sun's presence,

And their settling back in the evenings,
like cool salty clouds of white sea foam
collapsing back into the ocean's
gray waves.

In each moment passing by
like a kid riding a bicycle, speeding down
the cracked pavement and
turning the corner out of site,

I was shaped by
the flurry of life that surrounded
every person's presence.

Picked up, tossed into the air,
and kicked by small children with bright eyes
and tongues that stuck out when
adults were unfair,

Colored, spray painted and scribbled on
by teenagers with messy dark curls,
wild laughing eyes,
and rapidly budding senses,

Observed, analyzed, discussed, and compared
by businessmen in jet black suits
and smooth red ties,
who pondered cutting me evenly
into perfect pieces for sale on the market,

Rolled, polished, scrubbed clean,
and spiced by rapid tongued mothers
wearing aprons and holding long
wooden cooking spoons,

Eroded, left to absorb a vast amount of salt
from teary eyes and bleeding wounds,

Caught on blazing, fiery fumes
of a man's raging anger,

Soaring high in the sky, resting on clouds
of someone's love and faith,

Trapped low in the ground,
sleeping in a bed of dried dirt filled with
people's sorrows and dreariness,

Drowning in purple satin
of one's longing
and unsatiated desires,

Chained to a planet
spiraling out of control in a universe
that couldn't bear to let go.
02/20/18
Sarah Strack Jun 2016
I think sunset is the most dangerous time
When we all stand staring at colors in the sky
Forgetting
The sunrise to new reds, pinks, and oranges

The blue sky is forgotten
And the way the rays beat upon our skin
Harming
Our lips leaving cracks and parched tongue

Do we remember the swaying grass?
The boulders that lay along the path
Blocking
Us from the cool relief of the ocean

Our muscles burned with new adventure
The wind kissed us and we kissed back
Wishing
For a little more time and a little less

No one thinks of the birds' conversation
Their brief melodies spawned passion
Developing
Attachment or shedding what little we had

I still remember the blues of the sky
But now our shadows stretch longer
Losing
The feeling of noon's light and heat

I still feel the sandman's kiss in my eyes
The subtle and hopeful beginning
Rising
Eagerly so that I may see the sunset
Lily Peacock May 2016
26
I'll carve myself out of the bones of a former me,
Shave off the soft, spongy gut making my calls,
Leave a strong oak cask,
A barrel of good decisions,
Or lessons at least.
The new me, rough and cut by experience!
The sky can shape my eyes,
And the sea my heart,
Weathered like a cliff but tough like an avocado,
I'll resemble myself like a sister,
Just more me.
I'm a casual, lenient soul
But when it comes to my words
I mean them with a heavy heart
I'm looking for a good time but its not what you think
I'm looking for someone to turn these boring drags into something worth holding onto.
A memory lane that goes too long to develop it all on camera.
Martha O'Brien Jun 2015
I set fire to yesterdays
and watch my fire burn out.
I watched the last sparks dance in the darkness
and felt warmth from their flame,
I gained energy from their memory
they sang to me about what once was.

They are gone now; I am an ocean.
Cool and wild all at once, cold and uncontrollable,
calm and welcoming.
I do not fear the yesterdays.
I learn from their mistakes and embrace tomorrows.  

Claustrophobic no longer,
the embers made me stronger,
dark orange lit up the night.
These matches were not wasted
I can taste the future with anticipation,
with no regret for what I have burned away.

— The End —