"prindle" poems
I've always hated when they called me baby.
Because that made me think I had to stay, that I was theirs to keep. Every ***** on their prindle was fine, Every ache I carved, every stich I sewn , every needle I stuck into my finger, I yelled out "baby, why do you do this to me for I am not yours to keep". We are not lovers just fighter pointing fingers at one another with clenched joints and O's in our throats heaving at the fact you're not mine. And I never wanted that.
Nov 28, 2013
Nov 28, 2013 at 1:16 PM UTC
We had a EF3 tornado
It destroyed our house
A child died.
We moved on
All of our pets lived
I felt we should not *****
About "stuff"
When two people lost their lives
One a toddler,
Nathan Prindle.
I did not know him
But I mourned over
The death of such
A young child.
They say that what does not
**** you, only makes you stronger
I find that to be true.
There is a zen saying:
My barn burned down tonight
Now I have a better view of the moon
Sep 7, 2015
Sep 7, 2015 at 1:20 PM UTC