have hit a writers block I guess, am not finding any inspiration to write something about the world anymore, or maybe I am concentrated too much on my own world. I have to bring order to chaos somehow, bring sanity back to my life.
when will she fly the fledgling that is a bird now testing out her wings tasting the first fruits of flight leaving behind the nest she thought would be her home for life she is preparing for the flight when will she fly
there is just so much hurt one can take and she is reaching the threshold fast heavens will cry once more when she takes the final flight
It had rained that night just as someone had predicted it had poured wild as a million angels cried her faith was lost and never again will she believe things cannot last dreams cannot come true at least not hers as she looks up and asks with the eyes of a child why me, why me, why me the child is not yet lost but will soon be
She Keeps a Love to Nurture her Immature And a Vigor to Sacrifice the Fruits of Nature Her Dreams are Curtained Behind the Window Panes And Chained into Darkness with Teary Stains Her Audacity of Giving Birth to our Family
Away from the crowd She whispered her tale. To the cresting waves, To the frothy foam, To the flying seagulls, They knew her soul. They were waiting for her To wash her heart. She left the remains, She was carrying
I remember when I was just 16, So much of my life was yet unseen. I was searching for something to help me discover, What set me apart, made me different from others. And there in my neighborhood, where we