Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Andrea Cullen Sep 2012
Confusing messages of misadventured youths

"The best mistake ever made" to her

A carefully played plan to another her

Yet always surrounded by unfailing encouragement, the labour government and an inherent love for royalty.



A red, velvet curtain opened on a child growing from seedling to tree

And in turn took from that tree its very leaves,

But only through inquistiveness,

No malice, despite the lies.

Truth prevailed when the bird was caught which demonstrates a sense of good, I thought.



Renegaded, so rebelled,

Parental issues yet to be dispelled become increasingly difficult through distance.

Dance daddy: a fabricated memory seen through a sister's eyes.

Close but not so close that we touch because after this long that'd probably be a little much.

                                                                                              

First love,

LOOK LOVE!

Next love,

**** LOVE!

**** love hard in the ***, **** them to make them love you and hope it'll pass

**** FOREVER!



Stop.

Breathe.

Explore.


Open your mind and look inside.

Try not to hide from the eyes that want to see you,

Be You!

Try to understand you!

Peel your bleeding fingers from your sodden face and let you in.
                                                                                              


Incessant chatting in a circle of moon-eyed 'lovers'.

Mutinies, epiphanies, breakfast with balloon families,

Lest we forget the lies,

Ducking,

Diving,

More *******,

Skiving,

Writhing,

Without Guilt,

Much to everyone else's dismay!

He loves you, they'll say

But it didn't work out that way.

That one, he wasn't strong

And when things went wrong, he'd hit a ****.

And I'd disappear with the smoke

A nice bloke, just not for me.


And so, love number three

A write, a poet,

Inner turmoil, didn't show it.

Left home and ran but this one he took my hand,

And I'd open up his windows with the curtains closed.

Retrieve this wondrous creature from his pit of self-doubt.

And that inner-turmoil?

I think it came out.

The story doesn't end there,

But right now that's all I'm willing to share!
jeffrey robin Mar 2013
Nothing can fail me for your fragility is godly and holy
Hence pure
.
You are of the lost schoolyard escape
You are of the renegaded  treason  that mars
All of those who claim to be the heroes of today
--
Like old newspapers
Yellow
Faded
Wind bown thru vacant streets
--
Innocent child
--
All is silent ; even your screams cannot be heard
Invisible
(Even the pain--
ESPECIALLY THE PAIN!)
///
Fragile

Hence

HOLY
GODLY
PURE

Whatever good it does you
Let it do you well

— The End —