"whitout" poems
She is a girl. I bet if you saw her you would see a very happy child, a girl with two loving parents. A bright smile that lights the hearts of who see it. Others a rude girl who doesn't talk much and stick her nose on things that are not her business. But what most of you don't see is inside of her she is fighting. Fighting tears, silent screams for help. Fighting to be notice for who she is and not for what she looks. Most of you don't see in order for her to smile so brightly, she had to practice that smile every night in front of her mirror. That her family is not at all a happy one. That every night she hides in her room, covers her ear so she can't hear her parents fight. That when she ask you how are you or how was your day, is because she is really worried about you. That she keeps her distance cuz she is afraid of getting hurt again. And yet some of you jude her. Whitout even knowing her story
Nov 28, 2017
Nov 28, 2017 at 7:29 AM UTC
That story
Could have changed my life
But, I know that ever
I will have memories of her again.
Because the writers are like that
And the ideas are like that.
If you do not have a keyboard,
Or a piece of paper
At the right time
At the right place,
They fly,
Fly like napkins in a
Thunderstorm.
And if successful,
Some fragment of what is left,
Will surely be cut in pieces,
Incomplete,
Whitout beginning,
Without end.
Because that moments, yes,
They are unique.
So, like that
Go the ideas;
The moments;
The time;
The possibilities;
And the napkins.
Feb 23, 2015
Feb 23, 2015 at 5:32 PM UTC
one by one you fall
cold and giving life to what you touch
drop after drop
you give life to are worled
whitout asking for anything
without you, we would wither
most stay away from you
under cover
inside
asking when it will end
I ask when will you return
Dec 24, 2012
Dec 24, 2012 at 4:21 AM UTC