impatience 
| hey im sarah, just a writing teen girl, visit me [link] for more:] |
WAiTiNGDo you see the urgency in my tears swelling by the seconds? Can you hear the longing syllable in each word I mutter? I have no patience to muster from any given inner source; awaiting though i try faithfully, i slowly begin to grow impatient. Every constant of the sky's aggregation redevotes my thoughts to you: The sun with its brilliant radiance, it's mimic the earth and how I gravitate around you, the moon with its glow, like how you're my only illumination in my darkest of nights, even the flickering stars, testifying that burning love is persistent and perseverant passion. Patience was neverWAiTiNG
hushHush. Begin to feel for just one second perhaps nothing. Inside your thoughts you hold you dreams, your opinions, and your regrets. Outside this picture, the world turns faster seemingly, unable to hush or be hushed. It rocks, sways, and shivers to our thoughts; it is devotedly attuned to each and every. It unites each heart buh-beat, bears each shattered and split tear, and blushes by each unique hand's touch. It intertwines foreign fingers, promising to hold us forever accountable by its magnanimous rotation. Look around...stop tiptoeing in your thoughts. Power struggles, war, superficial supremacy:hush
chicagoCan you hear it? My heart, the cracks dissolve to tears... These bright city lights reveal every emotion in my face, though my fading spirit I give to the sun as it sets beyond the skyline. Chicago my perfect distraction as people go about their lives; my last want is for a stranger to care. Now as the clock ticks I'm reminded that time must heal all wounds, and I pour another to keep the weeping from visiting. I feel so young and stupid; my eyes too ignorant to comprehend the true good in life. I want so longingly to whisper the life out of each candle, but the darkness is a haunting remichicago
ProvidenceYour quirky love-smirk fades from memory, Though I long to recall its subtle curves and meek shadows, That enigmatic doe-eyed stare, No more meant for me than for the old bitches and tired out demons, who rattle their decaying fingertips along your ribs And beg for your mercy.Providence
But I was never made to beg, so I smartly and proudly sit I quiver and chew my fraying bloody lips away, And as my proud mouth scabs shut, You scratch and, angry, claw To rend my tender jaw apart and open, ragged, bleeding, raw, And curse the ugly meat-flesh that roars with the beat of
| hey im sarah, just a writing teen girl, visit me [link] for more:] |
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...But when something happens, you might find out anyway, and then you can begin being who you are, instead of the person, the others think, you are...
To write is to live forever
Your words lovely!
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SK
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It is better to be hated for who you are, than loved for the person you are not. (Kurt Cobain)
~writingclub
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