Life is like the dirt we bury our dreams and fears in. It blemishes the way. As things tend to grow by the rain of our belief or doubts.
Hard work gives time to play harder, and smile at ease.
They were shiny, shiny people that were bright like light bulbs, but there I stood out like a sore thumb, my dimness flickering self, and they saw it and removed themselves from me, forming their circle of light. Until the night died, they never noticed when the sun broke open its skull of rays, where I laid by the stop sign.
You will be remembered more for your bangs in life, than the bling.
Take flight, my little angel, for your wings are stronger than your faith.
The thought is just as strong as the consequence.
It was uncontrollable, overpowered by others, these colors within me, staring out at a black and white world; without spurning about, wanting to rule, too much negligence, they left me no choice, but to surrender. It was time, had to crash the lightning, and bow to the rain, where promises have broken, and pain still reigns. Had to give up myself and bring life to the world, had to. Dye.
Closed mouths, only lead to closed gates. Share your salvation!
Live a little or die a lot. The choice is hours.
It began with a hello, and ended in hell.
The sleeping pills in her pillowcase, the dark blank in her blanket, her purse lips purple; she disappears, she disappears. Her fears cuddle warm beside, to tears that went dry in the beat of her heart’s drum. The strum, strum, stern in her veins, she breaks free finally floating to her lost rhythm of peace.
Too often, we love for the wrong reasons, when we think the right one comes along.
Find your way early, on the road of life. For the way is too long to be struggling, and far too short to be waiting.
Well done, is well said.
In the horrors of war, please bring me peace.
There are people that will settle for nothing, people that will fight for something, and those that are fooled striving to have everything.
They say money is the rude of all evil, however I know poor people that can quite fit the bill.
She stared at me, like day stares at an hourglass and night, the sand trickling through time; the sea disappearing to eyes in the dark. But I hear her waves coming in, as she whispers one last chance goodbye.
When you do good things for people, you’ve created something to cherish and bank on the memory wall. But if there are no good deeds, later in life when you reflect on the past, the halls will be dreary and fruitless.
There are a world of answers, outside the loop.