Here we are still breathing, still loving.
They didn't break you and you know what? they never could.
You've endured more in one life than anybody else ever could.
You are strong, even though there are days you do not feel it you smile at the world even though you don't mean it.
That is what is great about you, you fight each and every new day.
I hope your pain soon fades away.
Remember that you are a hero in every way.
milena 1d
they'll look at me like i'm a freak,
if they find out what i've done.
they'll give me no chance to speak.
my friends might as well hand me the gun.

                   my pencil strokes, writing this down;
                   i feel an instant pang of guilt,
                   thinking of the end right now,
                   throwing away everything i built.

                                       i could never do it, i'm not strong.
                                       i want to see more, do more,
                                       but if it makes everyone happier, is it wrong?
no one would miss me anyway.
written a long time ago
I am
Strong more than mountain
Proud more than wind
Powerful like sun
Warm more than fire
I don't believe in gender
I feel
Free sprited like swallow
Deep like ocean
Magical like nature
Complicated like wolf
Cause ;
I don't believe in gender
Picture perfect child,
By her father's

You don't
Need to change
Precious Heart,
Just to
A man.
I wish to know the first time you blushed.
I wish I was there to pick you up when you fell as a child for the first time and leaves fell to the ground.
I wish I was there the moment soft petals were stripped away from your body.

A rose is strong in the storm,
Its smell is an unexplainable redolence
It thrives to grow and flourish.

A rose will wither away
inside a crystal vase or on firm ground.
A liquid substance is necessary to live and to rise,
just like He rose.

I wish to see those rosy cheeks as it speaks
The language of Love.
Words and syllabus that pierced through doors,
doors that were permanently locked in a heart of stone.

Oh, how I wish to see you speak in a narrative way
mapping the effects in a delicate way.
Meanwhile, I am just an ovule wishing to respond in a corollary way that slowly grows in a dark world
but like you rose
I will rise.

Oh, how I wish to see you blush
as I give you a rose.
Admit it.
That you're a potato that grows underneath the soil.

Admit it.
That your roots have been spreading along within earth.

Admit it.
That nobody has tried to dig a hole.

Admit it.
That one day, you'll grow beneath the ground.

Admit it.
That you'll grow stronger roots and eventually a branch.

Admit it.
That you'll grow into a big, tall tree.

Acknowledge it,
starting from beneath the ground, you will gain even stronger roots to hold you up until now.
The planted roots, to support you,
that has grown into a bigger tree, heading up towards the blue sky.
because I'm just a potato, trying to survive in the wild.

I've been inactive for a quite long time, but I'll make sure to come back once a week with new tales to tell. :)
We had a spark that dazzled the two of us.
The spark that set me up in flames.

I struggled not to burn.
But the more I did, the more I burned,

Spreading like a wildfire within me,
Devouring everything within its path,
Incarcerating my hopes, my dreams,
My everything.

I feared the fire consuming me,
But I realized that it’s not.
Instead it’s purifying me
So I surrendered to its flames.

You see me burning down to ashes
And dying a thousand deaths.

But from these ashes I shall emerge
Clothed in nothing but my strength,
More beautiful than ever before.

Watch my resurrection…
I am Phoenix… rising.

©Penchie Limbo
Strong women fall, but they do not stay fallen on the ground.  They get up, dust themselves up and rise again and become stronger, wiser and braver than ever before.
The tree that never had to fight
For sun and sky and air and light,
But stood out in the open plain
And always got its share of rain,
Never became a forest king
But lived and died a scrubby thing.

The man who never had to toil
To gain and farm his patch of soil,
Who never had to win his share
Of sun and sky and light and air,
Never became a manly man
But lived and died as he began.

Good timber does not grow with ease,
The stronger wind, the stronger trees,
The further sky, the greater length,
The more the storm, the more the strength.
By sun and cold, by rain and snow,
In trees and men good timbers grow.

Where thickest lies the forest growth
We find the patriarchs of both.
And they hold counsel with the stars
Whose broken branches show the scars
Of many winds and much of strife.
This is the common law of life.
Written by Douglas Malloch
Not my Poem
My Inspiration.
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