When he's sad
He paints the clouds grey.
When he's angry
He fills them with forks of lightning.
When misery becomes too much
He hides his tears
Until they fall as rain.
When he smiles
The clouds glow white
And wisps of his golden hair
Drift across the sky.
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Write by day, write by night, even writing by candlelight.
I wrote this poem in seventh grade: From many years of being shut, this window is scared to open. It doesn't trust the outside, it's scared of what might happen. So it just sat. And watched.
I am born, To fill you glee, But I'll never be free. I'll always die, Without knowing love, Just a puddle scarf and glove. I've got know heart, And yet I feel; Am I even real.
Shards of glistening, diamond frost hang from icy branches. Shimmering, white sapphire pools dance in the dazzling, golden light. Glittering, ivory snow carpets the frozen land.
If I had lady-spider legs, I would weave a sky where the stars lined up. Matresses would be tied down tight to their trucks, bodies would never crash through windshields.
I lie naked next to Time,. His fingers gently entwined with mine,. I kiss his chest softly,. "You must want me awfully,". He chuckles, as I mumble sweetly,. Of how I love him so completely,.
Love's blind eyes are blinder still when faced with Doubt's despicable will. The wretched minds of Mistrust and of Hate are trying to upset the blind girls fate.
Sidewalks talk to me, They ask why they're littered (they're stressed). "Why do people throw trash on me?" I reply that it's the squirrel's mess. Squirrels chat with me, They ask why we cut down...
"Are you lonely?" The wind whispers. "Does it seem like I am?" I asked. "Well, if you can hear my whispers you must be. Because that means you are alone.
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