IVY FlOWER
Courage what keeps the petals intacted
IVY FLOWER Ivy flower was ready to climb.Ivy flower choked on her vine.The dirt fell from the jaws of society into her eyes.Their laughter echoed from their lungs as she cried.Like pebbles on the coffin of the soulless.She died everyday inside.She was torn from her heart by claws of ferocity.Exhausted she felt she was the object of systematic property.Her heart stayed open an her tears faded into hope. She turned the excuses that weakened her mind into a strength nobody could understand or know.Her emotions unconfined.Intimidated by her strength the shadowed infant thieves returned her blessings. She then overturned their ignorance with the fire of forgiveness as the made her their queen releasing past festering grudges that were once so deeply embedded.
About the Creator
Angela M streater
Hey everyone I’m Angela I love being creative writing is a big passion of mine.I’ve been wanting to be a writer since the second grade.Those adorable fur babes you see are my life bandit an cupcake.I love sushi an shows like the office.
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More stories from Angela M streater and writers in Poets and other communities.
Concrete Rose in Acres Homes
Concrete rose in acres homes. Pushed away by the birth maker.Avoiding her own existence hoping someone besides the metro will take her.The devil spoke to her with such carisma convincing her such false prestige. Never did she think she would end up forced in a shed of antiques on her hands and knees.When everyone asked why did you stay?She thought who would believe the cries of the desperate teen.Her inner cutting continued to breath.Months later so badly she wished the pain would leave.She drank until she lay breathless on a gurney. She considered herself a useless runaway lost in journey. She saw it as the end of the world but 15 years later to this day her demon still lurks in the shadows of acres homes hunting for more runaways.She was dead from the inside feeling the disgust everyday. Seeking revenge when the world told her to pray.The memories run deep from blood to bone.Now she knows she’s not alone. She is the acres homes concrete rose buried in a swarm of stone.
By Angela M streater5 years ago in Poets
Affection and Healing for Yourself
During the night of the last quarter moon, I gathered my ritual supplies. I carefully handled the chunk of black tourmaline that would protect me from your overall negative and narcissistic energy. I carefully walked the house with my stick of selenite in hand, asking the universe to cleanse our working space.
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