We hailed Robb The King in The North
He was the leader, who led his army forth
Everyone admired his strategic mind
After the battle of Oxcross he found something he thought he wouldn't find.
A girl who's name was from the faith of the seven
Robb thought that he'd find his own heaven
Only little did he know, his friends had distrust
Roose played it safe and Walder frey thought robb cared only about lust
At the wedding at the twins, the people were having a feast
Little did they know that they had angered the lion and other beasts
Devastated Catelyn would cry as Robb falls
Now the rains weep o'er The North's Halls..

Don your jaunty hat boy
sing a merry song of chase
"Love abides, or love abides not"
Through hillock and forest greens
legs on strings pulled puppet
this and that way and back

a lilting voice and nettles' *****
flowers' color impressions
etch into retinal rhythm tick
delight running rampant rouge
when lost in streaming gardens
summer's youthful roose et ruse

-cec

At the end of the day,
It's not the shine of ur hair,
It's not the make-up u wear
It's not the dresses u choose
It's not the shade of ur roose
It's about WHAT MAKES YOU !
Cause what makes you ,
Defines you, refines you n
Outshines you !

Impromptu,
Finding many answers in few scriptures.
"Do as you told", by a world's control.
"Don't stray from the crowd", I were told. "Stay on target if you wish to reach a goal".

Blood pressure is rising. Where to.
Breaking through scales, passed the limits. Hoping for some Love to come through.

Liars lie in between the sheets.  It's a roose.
An already lost game with people who refuse to lose.

It's abuse.

Perusing through channels of regret with a glitchy remote,
Stuck on old memories I'd hate to stay by as a resort.

Motion pictures, showing  scenes of my life I'd  hate to lose.
I'd  hate my next steps to lead me to a life led by the *****.

Why though, be populating unpopulated areas of all hate, less Love.
While the last time feels like the first I once fell in love.

Still the many questions of what may be TRUE Love, rather than us teens smash  and pass.
I'd long for the real, that would last.  Alas.

Impromptu. Make up these words as they randomly come.
Life is not always a game but still finding ways to have fun.

the art of picking
at things that wont heal


Be tender at your mind
as you roose its wounded kind

gentle are a child's giant healing hands
warm upon your golden soul


no wound heals
as you keep picking at it

especially those you do not see or feel