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As you gently drifted under the nightly sky The moon The stars And every light Shone upon you as if you were an angel in the night
To talk of it is easily done, But To feel it coarse through your vein- That is a much harder task, And to the Universe I want to ask: Why am I so crippled? Why am I so blind?
You can't let someone's judgement Define who you are you were meant
We sing like Rain We scream like Thunder We shine Like lightning hitting the Crashing Waves We Mourn like the Storm finally calming itself We are gloom like the grey Skyies after a Hurricane
Dear world, I often ponder your composition A seeming giant reservoir of water Flowing as one, united But is this really true?
Humidity is a bitch to me. It’s alive. Sitting on cement, slapped fresh by Texas afternoon rain. Microscopic droplets carry home, lingering oils resting on cheeks. Clouds from above float through chambers of my lungs.
Scratch our story into skin flip my pages thin you’ll never forget me. Justify my every move to conform to nothing in my naked mind. You assure me I’m alive
My eyes are wildflowers Dirt roads. Weeds and Willow trees Main stream is cement. Dead. My dreams must live and breathe I won’t be anything but myself. Otherness.