Tell your worries to return tomorrow. Exile it down the path of sorrow. Then, change yourself to be one of joy And work your muscles till worry’s but your toy.
By Rachel Steinmetz2 years ago in Poets
When the fire burned through the streets In that moment the two of one meets When the city crumbled from the inside In that moment their love did not subside
By J. K. Anderson2 years ago in Poets
She’s 18, at a frat party. Spotted, targeted, by a senior. He gets her to his room, Puts on a comedy special, (Louis C.K., ironically)
By Test2 years ago in Poets
There is always a loop, that may connect the dots of people and stories of people. These patterns have clicks that often click once, twice, thrice.
By ♡2 years ago in Poets
I'm not sure what I'm doing. Do you see what I see? Lipstick on a pig. Achievements never looked good on me. A million awards but the presentation is tainted. Painted talons are still sharp. A soft mouse still a pest. A spider with cute eyes still with eight spiny legs. Do you see what I see?
By Belle2 years ago in Poets
In what world is it meant to be woman? Not in this world, I hope. Full of dreary struggle like an ant crawling up a wall, leaving behind its limbs as the paint dries.
By The Son2 years ago in Poets
“What do you search for?” “Peace. You?” “Vengeance.” “You can find one in the other.” “You will find both in each other.”
By Obsidian Words2 years ago in Poets
i've been looking for Matt Bliss, inside my own head. nobody knows who he is or where to find him. i need to recover the confidence;
By ⸘jason alan‽2 years ago in Poets
In the cadence of life's symphony, Where moments blend in harmony, There lies a truth, profound and wise, In routines that grace our daily ties.
By Solomon Walker2 years ago in Poets
In a world of rapid progress, where dreams take flight, There lies a hidden truth, concealed from sight, A sombre tale of innocence, slowly fading away,
When life hurls curve-balls your way, And you teeter on the edge of dismay, Embrace the challenge, let wisdom guide, And watch as your spirit soars, far and wide.
I recall those days, Rubbed the stubble of our father, Why was coarse, Thought and may be overthought, Touched my face yes touched,
By Esala Gunathilake2 years ago in Poets
