Everybody needs someone to talk to them. Today I met someone who needed help. She wore a dress with ***** socks. I couldn't ignore her cry for attention, so I talked to her about life. After we spoke she seemed quite fine, and I could tell she felt heard. Take the time to show everyone notice.
Fretting about an imaginary problem is like a child being afraid of monsters hiding in the darkness of the bedroom, but you've got to remember simply turning on the light made all the boogeymen go away.
Now, as an adult, just let the lightness of your inner being keep you from agonizing about pretend crises.
We ate thanksgiving dinner in a tiny diner hashbrowns and scrambled eggs, we weren't following tradition but I'm grateful for any meal I share with someone like you.
I sleep with the lights on, but it's not my choice. I hate the sensation of light hitting my face as I sleep. Night after night I pray the power would go out, so and that I could rest in the dark. One day I'll have my own home, and at night all will be silent, and all will be pitch black dark; dissolving into nothingness, until then may the power bill go unpaid and the light bulbs obsolete.
Do you remember the night I ran into your room because I was scared of the dark? We slept with our backs to each other, but I knew that you watched over me
Parties are no fun I sit in the corner watching others like a wallflower, I don't know what to think, say, or do. People overwhelm me with loud conversation and silent social cues. If I do talk to anyone its the weird, shy, and lonely people. One day we'll have a party dedicated to people like us. No eye contact required.
Sometimes the best thing you can do is to stop and breathe, letting the painful moment pass; for it is those quiet seconds of desperation when you find out who you are, count 1, 2, 3
Sweet release, I've hit rock bottom and have nowhere to go, but up! Such freedom comes to those who aren't afraid to fail. Now true success may find me.
I'll never forget the day we loaded the car and left town forever. Each of us uncertain what the future held, knowing the only way to move is forward. I'm proud of my Mom she didn't have any money, a job, or a plan, she just took my sister and me by the hand and lead us out of Babylon.
Poetry is for, the freaks, who are called ugly, the wounded, who hide their scars, the losers, who sit alone at recess, the weak, who just can't go on, for broken-hearted people, all over the world, poetry is for you.
I'm not perfect, at least I can say that out loud. Hopefully, I try my best in everything that I do. I pray that my character holds up to the test, that when others see me they see a nice person. It's impossible to know for sure, but I strive for perfection. I am Aaron Brown, a man who tries.
I'm tired, I need to go on hiatus. The book is complete, it's time for a break. I don't know if I'll be the same person when I come back, but like all good things it must come to an end.