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These are my daughters of a broken heart.
If heaven has a mailbox I would write a letter and this is what I would say.
we are people, not objects or products, not apologies or excusesoften dehumanized and abused, as if we are not your sisters, mothers and daughtersmen have the audacity to mistreat
Mamá, I don’t want to be like you I don’t want to carry chains that restrain my arms from the sacred flight I don’t want my eyes to get accustomed to the night and not see the light
A girl's best friend isnt diamonds. It isnt money. Really it isnt anything materialistic A girl's best friend is her mother And a girl's worst enemy is her mother when she is a teen and feels she is nothing like her mother
Or just Mom, Mama Come in different shapes But all have one thing in common They all invested nine plus months Of their life to bring a life into their life.
They told me, Sometime during your inception That I was given a gift
My mother is weak And I cannot stand it She is feeble, stupid, and plain Who are you? And where is the woman that I once knew? You’re a weakling, darling A scaredy little ghost
We are all sons and daughters of our Heavenly Father.Can't we all just get along?Can we continue to love one another,And help those in need?Can we bare each other's burdens,And pray for one another?
IT’S A girlThe three deadliest words in the world.So many keep disappearing just because of the flip of the coin.
Love is a dream that every girl is looking for. Love is a way to make it through a long, rough day. Love is the smell of a rose that meets you at your front door with a kiss.
We met up and we went out, I listened to every word from your mommas mouth, I knew then she'd be the one, The one I would live with, I knew she'd be the one, The one I'd have kids with,
Training these eyes with darknessBreeding these ears in silenceLearning to speak without wordsTrickling down crimson against porcelainRavishing blue against a black backgroundBeautiful twirled silk dipped in sunlightBlending this Icelandic scene a
Hey there Dad, get your gun let's go to the woods for some fun. The weather is mild and not too bright, cotton tails been out all night.
Know, that every time you speak against me, With that dull razor cut tongue of yours, A little piece of my stored rage slithers its way into existence. Making my finger fidget uneasy, involuntary.