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As the sun navigates the sky
Ages will pass and time will come by
When the stars were shining, I was growing up
Responsibilities had settled in
And before I knew it,
I forgot about the stars
Someday you’ll love you.
From the sparkle in your eye,
To the pitch of your laugh,
Even the color of your hair.

You will love every part,
From every wrinkle,
To every crinkle,
Every part of you.

But they will try to tear you down,
To make you frown,
To make you think you’re not worth it.

But darling you listen to me.

From the way you walk,
To the way you talk,
You will be mocked,
But don’t you listen.

From your weight,
To your height,
You are all wonderful to me.

Maybe one day you’ll see,
The beauty I see.
The way you were made,
So beautifully.

But until then,
Do not forget,
On how true beauty,
Comes from within.
I hope one day that you love you the way you deserve. You are worth it ❤
I give you my trust
That belongs to so few
So old, it's covered in rust
It's been years since it grew

My trust has grown tough
Having been broken too many times
It's calluses are rough
Rougher than the skin of limes

I am trusting you
Please be careful with me
Promise you'll be true
I break very easily

I love you
That's a fact
Truer than true
It's not an act

So take my trust
Treat it with care
Lest it be dust
Crushed out of despair
Paranoia gets the better of me all too often, but many times I am right to be paranoid. We live in a lying, cheating, broken world.
The magic of the moment, appeals to the heart
The essence of self-expression, portrays in fine art
Denounced of all logic, abstract with precision
Her image appears to lack her heart's intuition
Taunted like bees shaken in a jar
The artist offends her emotional scars
A nerve twitches the soul, excites the old
A mind so wise yet feebly slow
Love as a game extinguishes the flame
A pretty girl in my picture, I’ve forgotten her name
The ways of creativity feeds a fire
Her innocence is lost in my desire
Beauty and passion, a lust to stay young
The heart beats of wonder, before the guilt comes
The wink of an angel, the cast of a spell
The adolescent fear of kiss and tell
Broken like glass, then falls to the ground
A tender young heart lost and never found
And so the artist hides behind his creation
Only to expose such vague insinuations
Traveler Tim
I kept chasing
you, as if
you were
a distant dream.
But dreams
are not always
dreams.
Sometimes, we have
nightmares too.
When did those dreams turned into nightmares? When did I stop believing in the magic of dreams?
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