#respected
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
Mar 3, 2017
Mar 3, 2017 at 6:12 AM UTC
"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.
Mar 31, 2015
Mar 31, 2015 at 4:45 PM UTC
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
Aug 31, 2014
Aug 31, 2014 at 3:05 AM UTC