We are not our mistakes. This is a lesson Hardly learned and even harder to understand We are not our mistakes But we are accountable for them. There is no such thing as bad people Just good people who do bad things. At least I thought so It is hard to believe this When I … Continue reading Serving Humanity
Springtime, no me time suffocating on pollen. When I became. Bloom
Strokes as soft as a feather hues of reds and yellow blends of blues and greens abstract still life is for the artist. Taking in every moment you yourself seem to miss. So cheerful is the artist full of all sorts of glee to finally take her canvas and go forth marking history.
It’s a game I’ve learned to master, much like a craft I’ve developed a nack for See, the key is to make it as real as you can, without that being true. Because even the slightest emotion, can set you on the path of doom.
Mr Frog are you lonely? Is that why you've come here for warmth you need so dear? I must beg pardon as you will not find such thing in a heart that know none of those frivolous things If you'd ask I may have considered then again I may just be bitter. Mr. Frog I think … Continue reading
She was a symphony of forgotten thank yous of oh yes you're still here still here why are you even here. Her melodies were soft spoken instructions even softer hands head too hard to entrust vitals too low to continue. Her footsteps echoed in the office side eyes and side doors what makes you think … Continue reading Orch Estra
I wear my black pencil skirt tight like the chains I've been in highlighting every curve I've grown up to be ashamed of skin tight like my inability to sleep at night too busy thinking about not ever going up I could never be a queen because I refuse to be thin when thick is … Continue reading Black Pencil Skirt