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I sat on the grass in my front yard, listening to the whispers of the wind. Trying to understand the sounds of nature. I felt a change coming;I looked around and saw a dark army of clouds approaching.
My mind's always buzzing with some thought about something random and quirky never anything thoroughly serious.
by Me, Emily. -I.D.- I am me. Me is I. Can that change. If me wants to be her. If her is who I want to be... Then does me change. Does me wanting to be her change who I am. Or does me stay the same.
Expectations "Expectations are the root of all heartache. " I've been told to never expect things out of people because you'll only be let down.
it's been hours since people have vanished away this is a great change from night to day only the street lights and i are awake there's only sweet moments i'm gonna make guess i can feel this up...
The lines of poetry twist and turn, A maze of words untouched, unturned. Each golden drop of sunshine burns, Every word as ashes leave, blurred.
If you'd be so kind. I'd like to read your mind. Are you maybe just like me. Seeking out some poetry. To read, and then go on to be. Waxing philosophically. I'd like to be beside.
I am the past and the future. I wonder whether people ever wanted to go back to the past, And change whatever they regret. I hear cries and laughter, I see curiosity is people's minds.
A love without a home, Surely can't exist, There's always a destination, It wont evaporate like mist. - Words are charged with power, They could destroy evil brick by brick.
I have this need to write, even though I rarely have a reason to write, or anything to write of. Just the need.
I was a girl, rushing through hallways, opening doors. Doors to rooms I'd never seen before, or at least I felt like I didn't recognise them. Rushing and spinning and feeling lost, anxious, alone.
Me. I am you. I am both my mums and dads and theirs also. I am the brothers and sisters I grew up with and the dog I grew close too.
I ride upon the whispering wind, I float upon the musty air; I am time, and time can wait, Time is everywhere.
Here I sit alone. Away from the world. Sitting in the wind as I wait for it to stop. And when it finally does, I lay in beautiful sunlight alone. Birds are chirping in the early morning of the day.
I think I broke it. It's no longer fluttering and pounding and stuttering when i think about you. It doesn't even seem to have a faint beat. Can you fix it, good sir.
It's 7am in the morning and you're on your way somewhere, you stare at your car window while listening to that never-ending playlist of yours.
I loathe the person I've become.
There is a place where you can rise, on the summit of a mountain high Breathing in the cold crisp air, searching out the hazy horizon Seeking for yourself, seeking for your soul...
I should be sleeping, I say to myself yet again. Yet my mind is racing round and round on pointless unimportant things.
A melancholic life is one of sorrow periodically dashed with pure happiness, it is one that drives you to the extremes of existence, it is one that teaches you to survive... There I go again...
On with the heart of the matter. The conversation blushed, with a swift redirection: But how are you. What have you done.
Look at me, it's not my true identity I have a covert identity, i wonder if you'd ever see, my thoughts, my deeds are all that makes me but something I may do may not describe me.
As the wind brushes past with a peace in her breath And the waves shush onto the shore My face and my heart are warmed by a fire As the hills go on ever more A sweet mountain air that’s as...
Do you ever stop and find yourself talking to a person. Not even sure how you got to that point. It's like showering fully clothed.The water hitting your skin. Hidden between layers of fabric.