I don't have anything to pray for
God you are making me speechless more
Today,  the waves of regret is missing on shore
I'm happy, nothing's there to abhor
Life is so so so beautifully decor
I am feeling like mermaid ,I adore

I don't have anything to pray for,
You have provide me everything before,
My friends are there outside the door
Playing and cracking jokes , no sore
My family is the bestest gift you gave for
I'm excelling that's a good conquer

I don't have anything to pray for
When hope was missing and sadness uproar
You bought the sun of glory and therefore
I accept failures as my friends, better then before
I don't know how to thank you god
I think this is the gift of the kindness that I showed

All they see
Is,
The me who knows biology
And science stuff.

All they see
Is,
The me who knows nothing about art
Or humanity.

..the me who's in her teenage years.

I wish they want to see me as more than that, really.

The laughed at me when I told them my ambition,
My dream job:
"I want to be an author."

My dreams and hopes. . .

I just want to see a better world,
Where
Young boys and girls have their chances to speak their minds;
Where their opinions are being considered;
Or at least,
Respected.

"you throw like a girl"
"you run like a girl"
i'm not belittled nor ashamed by this comment
as it show us that men and boys will repent
i am not implying that girls and women do not diminish theirself
but I am telling you we will fight in good and bad health
do you know what G. I.R.L stands for?
g is for Glamorous, I is for intelligent, r is for respected and l is for lifeform
so if I throw like a girl I'm honored and so should you.

He sits alone and in silence
Atop the silver birch
High above the forest floor

Watching with attentive eyes
As moonlight flirts playfully,
Shadow dancing among the many
Silver branches

At the heart of the forest,
The brook chatters endlessly
Of adventures through mountains
So high their peaks are lost in
****** clouds, of underground
Rivers raging unseen beneath
Valleys filled with first
Spring lilies

The weary critters gather
To lap at cool waters,
Ignoring the incessant babble
As they keep a wary eye
On lurking shadows

High above, his sharp eyes
Glimpse outlines in the darkness,
Hidden shapes imitating bush
And fern, almost motionless
Yet moving

He utters a single sound,
A whisper barely audible
Above the ceaseless chatter
Of the brook

The hunters arrive and
Sniff the air, traces of
Prey still lingering,
But the trail grows cold

The brook continues to regale
The night air with tales

Seemingly unaware
They are no longer listening

Seemingly unaware
They never were