The world doesn't like sad girls.
It likes sad boys that the happy girls make smile.
It likes how the happy girls make the sad boys fall in love with their every word.
It likes when the boy who is no longer sad kisses the girl who made him so.
But then the sad girls are still sad,
and no one cares.
A sepal, petals, thorns and nettles
in metal, settles, worn and fettle!
Summer, winter, upward high
these monuments fly;
A bee, or three, as laurels recede
to trees, they flee, warn and plea!
Morning, evening, downward days
these echoes replay;
A child, wild, born and styled
in piles, files, torn and smiles!
Southern, northern, wayward plights
their memories fight;
my ears are deaf
from the cries of pain
my body is numb
from the endless rain
I tell myself
no part of me
for I know
that deep down
the world is crumbling
and I just
have to keep
They say the pen is mighter than the sword.
In truth, it is equally as dangerous.
Words can be steel against others
Words can cut deeper than a physical wound
(Especially now that the roots of race and prejudice
and ignorance is laid bear for all to see, along with
Words are arrows
Loosed into the air and once its been fired,
you cannot take it back.
There are some who abuse words as well
Just like swords, words can start a battle
A battle of wits
When the person must have a stone heart against
what is said.
When you hold the pen, you hold a golden flower.
Though there is beauty in it, you should also be afraid
of the gold tube and black ink.
In a society like ours, where the superficial rules over
the original, one word, what you saw, what you write
Has the destiny of creating a legacy
Add further fuel to the fires of hatred
We are all children
Playing a game
Taught to us by parents
Who play the same
Rarely do we remember
The meaning of our name
To remember who we truly are
With love, to keep sane
Two hearts may differ
From similar worlds
But our passions define us
As our hearts unfurl
Cast to the wind;
Your souls I touch
In the past, present, and future,
I must, I trust
Long is the life
That wanders her heart
Wishing to have a constant home
Though if my heart rest with you
As my home
I shall never truly be alone
Touch many with your love
And never limit your adventures
Be honest with yourself
and keep paying attention
Children like to pick apart beautiful things and leave them bare,
Simply because the destruction that lies at their fingertips is far beyond compare.
They touch the lilac sky with creation in mind
But they don't know that the light withholding their innocence has slowly died.
As children, we are the petals of a flower, lovely when in bloom
But wilted and numb once the bitterness consumes.
We are left to wonder where our innocence has gone
And we roam until our carefree days are done.
O, the vines embrace our still beating hearts,
Like the thorns that have not released us to the cold world.
I crumble beneath the lilac sky
As these fallen petals swirl.
In the quiet of the night,
Where darkness steals the need for sight,
When most are asleep, I lie awake,
Waiting for the dawn to break,
Long past trying to count sheep,
My brain’s shallow, but my thoughts are deep,
My mind’s trying to put the world to rights,
But I think it might take ... several nights!