"encourages" poems
Being an actor or actress
Doesn't mean you are on broadway,
Or a star of a hit reality TV show.
Being an actor or actress
Means you step onto the stage
And give it your all.
You accept the spotlight
Not as a blinding piece of equipment,
But as a sun shining on you,
Bringing you to life.
When you hear the term
Break a leg
You form a grin,
Knowing it's not literal.
When the laughter
Of a crowd on opening night
Encourages you and gives you hope.
Being an actor or actress
Isn't about the flowers
Or the repetitive good jobs after a show.
Being an actor or actress
Is about the butterflies you get
Before you go on stage.
It's about the energy you feel
When you and your cast
Do something spectacular
On stage.
Being an actor or actress
Is an outlet from the real world.
It allows you to step onto stage
And forget about the boy
Who broke your heart,
Or the money struggles,
Or the bombs going off
In other countries.
It allows you to step into
A new and exciting universe,
Where nothing else matters except,
Being an actor or actress.
Mar 23, 2014
Mar 23, 2014 at 1:35 PM UTC
When a handsome, charming teenager named Noah (Ryan Guzman) moves in next door
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, newly separated high-school teacher Claire Peterson (Jennifer Lopez) encourages his friendship and engages in a little bit of harmless (or so she thinks) flirtation. Although Noah spends much of the time hanging out with Claire's son, the teen's attraction to her is palpable. One night, Claire gives in to temptation and lets Noah ****** her, but when she tries to end the relationship, he turns violent.
Jan 30, 2015
Jan 30, 2015 at 1:45 PM UTC
Leave me alone, I will prove them wrong.
In the absence of the best, I am the best.
I am the last resort, in the worst I am the best.
Leave me alone, I will prove them wrong.
Leave me alone, it will not take so long.
I will not sleep, I am the best in the absence of the rest;
I will not sleep, nightmares encourages me to do the best.
Turn on that music and go, I will prove them wrong.
Extrovert dude when you are with an introvert say the deal and go.
Extrovert dude, introvert creativity is on the darkness.
Introvert dude let us in, do not keep the door locked.
Some say together we work, introvert says yes but go.
Staying together is not team work, sorry for leaving you in the darkness.
Introvert dude turn on that music, it’s time to keep my senses locked.
Written By: The Senior 5/08/2020
Aug 7, 2020
Aug 7, 2020 at 1:59 AM UTC
What truly is the definition of righteousness?
Is it determined by act or by mind?
They say a good man fights for justice, peace, and prosperity.
But then, can a man of such moral truly remain so
if he turns to violence as an answer?
Does his intent to create marvels render him of moral status
though his methods may empower death and promote war?
Oh, this man is peaceful himself,
taking letters instead of bullets to battle
but his lyrics dislodge society in a manner not all approve
and so begins combat.
Can this soul carry such holy title,
if the repercussions of his strung together words are strung up necks?
Or is the good man the one who turns away from the world's fight
to be his own embodiment of ethical beauty?
For the one who remains silent causes no direct pain;
he himself is passive and tranquil
and moves to inspire such conduct in others without commanding it.
But his silence encourages fierce vehemency and wildness.
Does this fact not taint his name?
The first man had pure intent,
but with his tongue he spit sparks
which others used to ignite a fire and burn the world.
The second did not fight himself
but his chosen hush could never end the blood rain,
and so his lack of sharp verbosity allowed knives to flash and blood to spill.
So I will ask again,
what determines morality?
Though this time with a grounding response;
morals define morality.
Each man's mind renders his own flawless ideal individually,
and so one's perfection will always be another's monstrosity.
In truth? There are no good men,
or at least not one to all.
Jul 28, 2014
Jul 28, 2014 at 10:35 PM UTC
•
You are the king,
*That catches his queen,
When she fall,*
*Encourages and inspires her,
When she's dejected,*
*Pick and carry her,
When she stumble down,*
*Wipe her tears,
When she cry,*
*Comforts her,
When she feels unworthy to be loved,*
*Sings for her,
When she's lonesome,*
**And will give her all pure love and loyalty,
That the king could ever ever give,
More than the queen could ever ever imagine.**
The queen will be just the happiest,
And will give the king,
All the love he needed,
All the care,
All the attention he needed,
All the time,
All the effort,
All true loyalty,
She will give everything just for her king...
'Cause that's what love is right?
The queen will just give him the best thing,
The unconditional and unfeigned love.
© Earl Jane
♥ E.J.C.S.
Aug 7, 2015
Aug 7, 2015 at 4:21 PM UTC
There is a man who loves me
I didn't know him
But still, he loves me
I pushed him away from me
But he's still here and he loves me
I didn't even believe what he's saying
But he encourages me and he loves me
I mocked him and judged him
But he looks at me with love for he does
I didn't listen him and wandered off
But he's still guiding me because he loves me
I didn't talk to him and I ignored him
But he's still waiting for me because he loves me
I lied, I cursed, I got angry, I sinned
Despite all that, he loves me still
I turned my back against him
But he still got my back because he loves me
I'm selfish, hot-tempered, proud and stubborn
But he still cares for me because he loves me
I ignored him, ignored him and ignored him
But he's always there for me because he loves me
So I asked...
*Who is this man who loves me?
Who is this man who loves me inspite of and despite?
Who is this man who loves me still?*
And I got a reply...
*He is the man who died for love
The man who lived to die for you
The man who died for his love for you.*
Then he asked me back...
Where else can you get a love like this?
You aren't worthy of his love, but he still gave it to you.
Isn't he worthy enough to be loved back?
Won't you love him back?
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
...
.
.
Romans 5:8
But God demonstrates his own love for us in this: While we were still sinners, Christ died for us.
.
.
....
Oct 2, 2016
Oct 2, 2016 at 7:20 PM UTC
If someone, you trusted the most betrays you.
People blame you for trusting him "Blindly"
and also quote "Trust No One".
But have you ever seen anyone pointing their fingers
at the person who betrayed you, looking him in the eye
and asked him why would he do that to you
or how dare he betray you or anyone?
No! right?
I feel, the people, the society encourages this betrayal and the betrayers.
If anything such happens around you,
stop giving free pieces of advice and
stop backing him(the betrayer) up.
You better warn the betrayer not to betray anyone
and also quote "BETRAY NO ONE"
What kinda foolish statement is "Trust no one"?
How can you not trust anyone?
So everything you do is just drama!
Acting like you trust him/her,
that's where these betrayers come from.
They are you, who sit silently when betrayal happens
You got to trust! Nothing works without trust!
Why is it, not trusting anyone even an option?
Let's say let's "BETRAY NO ONE"
Apr 9, 2018
Apr 9, 2018 at 8:28 PM UTC
I consider it
rather optimistic
to view myself
as a small spec
in this large swimming pool
of a universe
because
it only encourages me
to be
bigger
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 11:08 AM UTC
The perfectionist loves to hear his voice,
He is the respected critic inside,
He is the learned one,
The educated and the educator.
A beautiful constructor,
The finishing touch
To the artist's hand.
The voice is always a partner,
He will always be there to help
The artist, comfort is taken in his ability.
The artist needn't forget,
There are many voices on the side,
Awaiting for their time to speak,
Each one has its time,
All varying in their patience and duration.
The artist sees what he hasn't before:
The voice of support; the voice of love; the voice of decision; and the voice of passion.
There is always time to contemplate his flaws
And he wants to reassure himself:
Perfection is not a demand, but a quest,
One of beauty and one of joy.
Perfection is the beauty in imperfection.
The pursuit of achievement is one to relish, it is not to be rushed or
Ceased, it is a running walk, a walking run, a sitting stand, a moving still.
It is every step he has made.
The artist looks behind and sees
His effort, he is proud to have experienced
His triumphs and his trauma
The voice of comfort will be there all the way,
She is a gentle quieter spirit that deserves as much an ear.
When all voices have calmed and subsided,
Her tenderness remains.
I remind the artist of his friends,
I remind him that the critical voice is the voice of nature,
The physical laws unchanged.
He is the driving force to stasis and movement in the age worry and indecision.
"Do not be overwhelmed" I say to the artist,
You are one of many.
You are with friends.
The voice of change encourages the artist to evolve and to smile,
The voice of happiness allows peaceful living and awareness.
The tiger belongs to nature,
not to be feared, but to be respected
and understood.
Do not despair, do not relinquish hope,
Hope is the shining beacon in a world of anguish.
Hope is the angel shining her torch ever so bright.
Hope is the window that allows pain and suffering to see the light of day ,
Hope allows oneness.
The artist moves his brush: an effortless stroke,
A flicker of joy,
A tear in his eye.
He once was old,
Now is young.
He learns to enjoy
The work he has done,
He can now enjoy the work he does,
He is enjoying the work he is doing.
He enjoys his life.
The state of mind, it is a fickle hatchling.
Able to be pursued and persuaded,
also able to be liberated.
The artist is free,
His thoughts can pass,
His fear will subside,
His body can move,
His heart will follow
And the mind will allow.
Spirit be set free,
Bird do fly,
Artist do paint,
You,
You are.
Peace within oneself is peace with others.
The artist is brave, he is a soul that stands tall in the face of adversity,
He is a sleepless enigma in his room at night,
He is the passionate one,
The artist and his love affair with the critic outshines his charisma,
The love for the sophisticated darkness,
His love for the melodrama,
His quest for knowledge,
Perhaps the only knowledge is
Ignorance.
Blissful unawareness.
Jun 15, 2016
Jun 15, 2016 at 11:20 AM UTC
I had a gf that used to get called a feminazi,
but no one ever called me a feminanarchist;
I think what we really were is Feminihilists.
FFP opposed ***********
defined as the sexualized degradation,
********** humiliation, objectification,
subjugation, violation, psychological
annihilation, exploitation, & violence
against women as distinguished from
erotica based on the mutuality
of power and pleasure.
According to FFP's pioneering founder Page Mellish,
*********** provides the training for ******
assault & **** results in the objectification
of women; affects women's ability to get equal rights
& equal pay, & encourages men to associate
*** with violence; Page ultimately claimed
that _all_ feminist issues | [ , ], [ ]
are rooted in ***********
& in a 1986 letter to the editor of The Wall Street Journal,
she asserted that FFP is "not against love & not against ***
Page held that all men or women
who did not fight against ***********
were accountable for the violence
against women, claiming that women
who enjoy *********** or rough ***
had internalized the male [gaze] & |
male definitions of power
Page's positions on ***********
have been debated outside FFP,
including with respect to porn's agency
on crime & feminist & gay definitions of ****
Legislation alone was not a solution,
according to Page; it was also necessary to remove _"the need for ****
vehemently anti-censorship & pro-sex,
Page taught me to show everything from
all sides; my other feminista professors
were pro-monogamy [patriarchy] while
Page was a combat boot wearing girly-girl;
she had these cute little doe-eyed Q's following
her around carrying the placards [ ] for her
spontaneous demonstrations against underwear
Aug 21, 2018
Aug 21, 2018 at 5:54 AM UTC
Love doesn't aim to control or curb or force...rather it encourages, supports and persuades..if it does the former...then it isn't and cannot be love.
Oct 17, 2016
Oct 17, 2016 at 1:24 PM UTC
Have you ever been under the influence so long
That when you are forced to stop
To come up for air
Everything feels
Unfamiliar?
Sobriety chokes you
Traps you
Makes your heart race
Like a Chinese finger trap
You voluntarily entered into,
But now feel as though you might not escape.
The sober life is what you strive for
Long for
Dream of
Everyone around you encourages,
You can do it
One day at a time
They say
Attempting to motivate
Inspire
Help
But these are all lies
A mere hour of sobriety is too much to handle
It suffocates
Makes my hands shake
And my mind go crazy
DRINKDRINKDRINKDRINKDRINKINEEDAFUCKINGDRINKNOWGODPLEASE
This phrase repeats itself,
Over and over
No matter how many times you tell yourself
ICANDOTHIS
You know
It’s only another lie in the endless stream of pathetic, useless encouragement
You have created for yourself.
And after you say this,
ICANDOTHIS
You laugh
Knowing that it is absolutely
UNTRUE
And always will be
How can you embrace sobriety
When the bottle calls from its hiding place
The place you hid it
From your lover, family, friends
Pretending you function
Just like all of them
Waking up
Going about your life
Without panicking about when the next drink will be
When the drinks you need
Will **** you
If anyone will even notice
Or care.
Probably not,
Why should they,
Do you?
You never have.
Your life is an endless series of drinks and lies, and more drinks
And more lies.
You are nothing.
An empty cup
Waiting to be filled with the substance that will distract you from living
And then take your worthless life in the end.
Alcoholic
Forever
Unfixable.
Stop wasting our time.
Nov 1, 2012
Nov 1, 2012 at 12:23 PM UTC
I feel like he was created just for me.
I think im holding hands with Destiny.
He Encourages me to be The Woman The Father has presdestined me to be.
Hes like a dream given unto me.
He sees straight thru me like he can hear my thoughts telephatically.
Got me fiening for him like jodeci
Plunging into the depths of his soul's love as I enjoy The journey of his story....
Hes The Instructor of love and Im the student thinking critically.
He has left An impact on my life tremedously.....
Im drowning in his love ever so endlessly.
He is Waves from the oceans currents of
pure bliss
And I......I am his ocean shore that his waters of love kiss.
He's like a precious treaure I have discovered.
Unlocking the chest to look inside and see what I have uncovered.
Im happy for what I have found
Hes A King worthy of Sparkling crown.
I wish I could wear his love Like a White Flowing Wedding Gown.
I feel he completes me like a sentence Yah is the subject, He's the predicate and im the noun.
With his words he painted a vivid picture of me
Its a picture with definition, depth, and clarity.
Its almost like he captured every little detail so Carefully.
As if I were an image of an angel made so Heavenly.
Apparently,
In his eyes Im a portrait crafted very delicately.
A beauty constructed with integrity.
Sparkling like the waters of the deep blue sea.
To Be held in The Artistic nature of his Creativity
Is a Wonderful sight to see
With his poetry I see The illustration of his spiritual Imagery
I caressed the Compassion of his vibes that discerned The ambience of his Frequency.
His Energy Sweetly Speaks so pleasntly
His Diction shows me his style Musically.
His wisdom shows the level of his Maturity
And it makes me drawn to him as if Its a force was pulling me closer into his gravity
Ill admit this experience is kind of scary
But My lovely Beautiful Mahogany
theres no place I rather be than with you standing by my side next to me.
Feeling as if I am Soaring like a bird so Free.
He Surely bring out the Best characteristics of me.
I Believe Im Subconsciously holding hands with destiny
#destiny #serendipity #Love #beauty
Dec 28, 2016
Dec 28, 2016 at 12:59 AM UTC
What if I were president? What party, what values would I hold?
If I were president would I be humble, honest, and bold?
When I talk about greater justice for immigrants, I'm a Democrat.
When I speak out against abortion, I'm a Republican.
When I talk about racism and racial inequality, I'm a Democrat.
When I mention small, localized government, I'm a Republican.
When I support the common good and solidarity, I'm a Democrat
When I say the family should be strengthened, I'm a Republican.
When I speak up against the death penalty, I'm a Democrat.
When I refuse to fund contraception, I'm a Republican.
So, where does this leave me? You have to pick right?
Well in some ways I'm both, and in some ways neither.
You see, if I pick Democrat I'm going against my Republican values
And the same is true of my Democrat values if i decide Republican.
If I were the president I'd work for peace, love, truth, understanding
I would work to build bridges between the peoples and the nations
Walls and fences do not, the best neighbors, make.
I won't convince you with anything I say, but if I do my best to live and
To reflect love, to give hope, to find joy maybe you'll want it too
To lift up the lowly, help others help themselves, to forgive and to love
That's some of what I hope to do.
In truth, I'm a member of an institution that teaches that freedom is when a person no longer acts under the influence of someone else. An institution that encourages free will and free thought. An institution that doesn't fit inside a man-made box.
This is being true to myself, this is who I am.
I'm Catholic
Aug 30, 2016
Aug 30, 2016 at 11:30 AM UTC
Whose job is it to make sure our kids are educated properly.
The parents are putting all the blame solely on me.
I was always told that a parent is a child's first teacher.
Although, you want to place the blame on the public school system and teachers.
Why doesn't he know how to read and tie his shoe?
But....he can unlock different levels that were unknown to you.
Nintendo's Wii, PS3 and Xbox 360 are more important to you and your children....not a lesson sent home from me.
He can count to 25.....although he doesn't recognize the numbers when he sees them.
Parents continue to say that I don't teach enough and I don't know what I'm doing.
My response is this.....some of you ruin the children. You want to be their friend and dress them in name brand clothes and sneaks.
Meanwhile....he doesn't recognize the seven days that create the week.
I asked him to read and he became upset and pushed his book on the floor.
He used inappropriate language and said "I don't want to be in this class anymore!
He's in seventh grade and reads on a first grade level.
So....my question is this.....is it my fault or the teachers who came before?
That he's not on grade level when he enters my door.
Homework rarely comes back when I send it home.....although he has a new iPod and an iPhone.
The interNet and social media.....has a strong hold on our youth.
The sad thing about this is......people won't admit that this has a hint of truth.
It still takes a village to raise a child....but things are not the way they used to be.....and you can't tell people about the children that live under the same roof.
We need to go back to the core principals of teaching our children. Teaching begins at home. That's where I first learned....to read and to write.
A little discipline never hurt anyone....it encourages them to learn and to do things right.
My question to you and it's open for discussion ......
Whose job is it ?
Oct 7, 2012
Oct 7, 2012 at 5:10 PM UTC
For my Enchanted Woodland Fairy
Who is so very sweet
She always encourages me
With the sweetest of words
She loves me and I her
She has little fluttering wings
And she has a crown of rosebuds
Sitting upon her pretty hair
Today is my Fairy's Birthday
She will eat the most sweetest cake
And drink the most wonderful honeysuckle dew
With her lips of cherry
She kisses the flowers sweet
She weaves the most prettiest gowns
For the other little Fairy folk
Who use those gowns to dance in
Under the Enchanting Moonlight
That dances through my bedroom at Night
She is a sweet Fairy with a pretty
Face
Her has the prettiest ringlets
That I ever did see
She dances through the rain and through the snow
And yes, you've guessed it
Her name is Adreishka Moonlight Luciano
~Marian~
May 8, 2013
May 8, 2013 at 9:56 AM UTC
However this Stag Tradition breathes thus far
Which works in all cases of Merriment
That Ring is no Joke; And Youth points a Star
To where your Heart will land in Sentiment
He only Encourages, Dreams and Promotes
As no Singer sang such Octave before
Mark him Stranger; Not a Contest he connotes
To challenge what had been Promised once more
Such tell, that Woolen Strings are Postulate,
A Theory already penned into Law
That Fixed Hearts are veined in Mutual Rebate
And Cupid signs both your names into Straw.
Go to Her. She has sung Poems better Written
This Bard resigns; Knowing he was Beaten.
Mar 12, 2013
Mar 12, 2013 at 3:18 AM UTC
The perfect woman
is beautiful, of course
but not too beautiful,
( enough to be objectify-able
but not so much as to be threatening)
The perfect woman
has a voice and a mind
( that she wisely decides
to leave behind)
The perfect woman
should never be heard
( unless she becomes
a part of the herd)
The perfect woman
Is benign and blind
( to everyone's faults
except her own,
which also, btw, she ought to make known,
or god forbid, she'll be harkened a *****
How rude.....)
The perfect woman
Is coy and shy
(changing her demeanor
for a girl or a guy)
The perfect woman
Does nothing wrong (yeah right)
(and still doesn't get
why she can't belong)
The perfect woman
Knows her salad forks and plates
She encourages, she nourishes
She creates,
(she waits, she waits , she waits)
The perfect woman
is an overachiever
(but readily labeled
to be a deceiver)
The perfect woman
doesn't age
doesn't dream or rebel
Oh no, dear no....
none of that outrage
The perfect woman
can be a nymph and a nun
(knows how to not show
that she knows what is fun)
The perfect woman,
is curvy but thin
each angle defined
each strand refined
with a dazzling smile
and a glowing skin
(no matter how she gets it
It's that she gets it, she gets it.)
The perfect woman
Is strong and composed
But when she's patronized
She doesn't resist...
She carries her grace
on her well turned calf
and a delicate wrist
Till it's proper and unopposed
The perfect woman
is cruel to her daughter
and kind to her son
( as she knows what it means
to be a woman
even if she forgets
that she's also one...)
The perfect woman
doesn't want to be free
you see, it's simple
She's come to terms with the very concept
That it's her destiny
Sigh.
Let's say this, let's try....
Here's the gist
The perfect woman
is either every woman
or she doesn't exist.
Apr 23, 2017
Apr 23, 2017 at 9:22 PM UTC
Pieces of
our past.
Wondering how we will
Patchwork
them back
together,
in the days
of the weeks,
the months
of the years ahead...
as you disguise
yourself,
on benches,
in corners, alleys.
Hidden in woods,
underpasses
of freeways.
Tents, cars
of strangers.
Filthy trap houses.
You disappear,
to find
comfort in
the only place
left to heal.
The Deep Depths of Sleep.
Oh how I
worry about
you my love.
You suffer so
for this journey
you have embarked on...
Oh, how I
hurt for you,
yearn for you,
love for you
and cry for you.
Your pain
so deep
keeps you away,
to dwell in the
terrifying place that
encourages
the need to
Self implode..
Obliterate all ability to feel.
Even the
true sense of Belonging
Of being
unconditionally
loved.
Aug 5, 2019
Aug 5, 2019 at 2:04 AM UTC
I read a story today.
Like any good story it was layered upon the premise of the love between two perfect strangers.
Like any good story it was about romance that blossomed... and then flourished as quick as it was fierce.
Like any good story it spun a far-reaching web of hope and longing whilst still holding on to the uncompromising nature of responsibility to one's dreams.
Like any good story, there was a spot of intimacy. The gradual build up of physical and psychological attraction that culminated in the merging of two, was nothing less than tasteful.
Like any good story there was conflict.
But it was not the cliched garnish that involved oppressive parenting styles nor glaring racial differences.
It did not rope in the overused notion of "we're so different, we're two parts of a whole".
It was... a beautiful conflict.
One that does not allow the audience to choose sides.
In fact, it encourages you to think inward and root for both parties - be them together or apart.
If anything at all, it boils down to the pursuit of each individual's happiness.
Like any good modern day story, it ended with a breath held in a gasp. You hold it there for the longest moment and you have to close that breath with a heavy sigh of loss.
It also leaves you with ample room to deliberate the "what if" factor.
Happy endings last a while but sad ones... they rip a hole in you that almost never closes...
and you cannot help but go back to read it over and over again in the hopes of finding the elusive right answer or the best alternate ending.
Like any good story it was tailored in my fit. Because I envisioned myself in it. I got consumed by it. Overwhelmed by it, enough to almost break the pipes.
And like any good story, it's worth keeping...
In heart and in mind.
So I read a story today. And I didn't want it to end.
Jan 3, 2017
Jan 3, 2017 at 6:26 AM UTC
I know this message won't reach you
So I figured I would write this here
I want to help you recover from your last relationship
I want to take you on a date
I want to know everything about you
And learn what makes you smile the most
I really like you
And I just can't stop thinking about you
Every time we text
Even if it's just saying hi
They actually brighten my days
And bring me out of slums
Something about you
Just encourages me
To be the best version of myself
I don't know
How you truly feel about me
But regardless
I just felt like
Getting this off my chest
Feb 20, 2017
Feb 20, 2017 at 8:20 PM UTC
See this heart encased by imperfect skin
It masks the beauty that is locked within
Because society has no eyes to look inside
At the beauty that commercials hide
We see perfection as an image to high
That we fight to make ourselves try
to be something that will never make sense
In this sad world that encourages this
We hear names screamed out at us
to morph us into something, while society laughs at us
It's telling us if we fit the role
then maybe you'll be considered full
They tell you to be yourself then list out what to change
And if your opinions are different you're suddenly strange
If you don't look or act or live a certain way
Then you're automatically cast out and shamed
Hold your head up high and press on
Because I won't be conformed to a society
That's hiding me
Because I'm not who they say I should be
May 29, 2014
May 29, 2014 at 11:33 PM UTC
My own person is healthy and courageous. My own person is self-aware and emotionally intelligent. He is growth-oriented, resourceful and positive.
My own person is supportive, thoughtful, kind and empathetic. My own person is ready to take accountability, communicate and work through things even when the going gets rough.
My own person desires to make me happy, chooses me and shows up for me. He is sure about me and healthily obsessed with me. My own person encourages and lifts me up when I’m at a low point.
My own person does not disappear when I need him. My own person protects me. He knows how to introspect, reflect and has a desire to be better.
My own person does not make me feel small or irrelevant. My own person is a secure place where I can feel at home. My own person is expressive. He is a source of light when I am in a dark place.
My own person is as sure about me as the sun rises and sets without our asking, with certainty; regardless of the weather, timezone or location.
May 5, 2023
May 5, 2023 at 4:33 PM UTC
Empathy is a disease.
It's a mirror that you always look into.
It is the situation that you are inherently bound to.
Empathy is asking for spare change on the corner of a street.
Empathy keeps you dedicated
Like a nun in it for the pearly gates.
It stamps a scar on your heart that can turn to hate.
Empathy is the cheapest coffin in the whole place.
Empathy encourages that charitable sorrow
That plagues the psyche with a bittersweet notion
Of unbearable understanding and sympathy.
Empathy is all alone, drinking wine and watching WWIII on the t. v.
Apr 10, 2013
Apr 10, 2013 at 10:15 PM UTC