one
two
three years
but who's counting?

i'm here now and i'm not leaving

Thunder for bees soar through the cloudless sky,
With infrequent arguments audible from afar,
The summer sun would continue to blaze from on high,
Until resting time, when new light would contest with the stars.

Flowing hair gently blanketed the forest seats,
Stumps sat upon by figures both unwashed and radiant,
The beautiful women wove ornate coloured sheets,
Weaving countless garments of many colours and variants.

Countless scents wafted through the still, warm air,
Grapes adorning my fingers I laid back contented,
The great trunk to my back serving as armchair,
Sun's warmth soaking into the air, still and scented.

Alone in good company I silently rested,
Restoration and regeneration unintentionally gifted,
Those outside and afar finally bested,
From below I was finally lifted.

I can’t wait to go on my first date with happiness.

I've said it once,
 I've said it twice, 
and I'll say it another million times:  
It takes time to make a home out of your body.

Nobody,
 nobody; should ever despise their own reflection.
Your conception of 'beautiful' is corrupted but we're all here to help you reconstruct it.

This sadness ebbs to my bones,
it shakes my soul like an earthquake shaking the earth’s crust.
The monsters will always be with me but is following them really what’s good for me?
They bashed, broke and bruised me.
If I continue this way then soon they will be the  end of me.
This is not the life I devise to be good for my mind.