I'm so jealous of people who write better than me

The roads ahead are long, the roads behind are gone
Come meet me where the sun kisses the grass
There we will exchange words and reveal who we are
To ourselves and to each other
Why are we here and what is our purpose
Why do we struggle just to satisfy our needs

(something I wrote in 20 seconds. I don't know. I guess I'll keep this post)

Sometimes all we need is a little reminder of how lucky we are to be alive. The little things in life we take for granted are of such magnitude to some people. While the earth is spinning and people are "living," I close my eyes and feel my lungs take in and let out air. This exchange of oxygen and carbon dioxide is what I have, the only thing I have to allow me this very moment that I will not waste.

I relish utopian ideals, abstract thoughts, and philosophical words. They can come from just about anything at any given moment. I can walk down a street and see a leaf on the ground and that can instantly excite a neuron in my mind and that excites other neurons. It will usually last about five seconds. Sometimes it can last for days. That makes me hopeful. I tend to immerse my entire being in anything I'm remotely interested in. That could be good or bad. I'm not sure..

‎I'm lost in a cloud of fear and anger that never dissipates. The fumes choke me and fill my lungs with thick black smoke. It intoxicates me 'til i surrender. I open my eyes for a moment. The obscurity had been my imagination all along.

Olive Brown Hope

The autumn air, the falling leaves, the smell of hope
The children laugh and play with graceful innocence
Little sweet angelic Bethany smiles as she skips rope
Her eyes burn with a secret pain, but no signs of vengeance

She runs towards her mother and heavily plops down
Her head is covered with a sweater knit winter hat
Peering over, I notice the color of her eyes, an olive brown
"Let's go home. I'm tired," she says, her voice, flat.

Bethany hurriedly removes her winter hat due to perspiration
My curious eyes glance over once more to see her bare head
I feel an enormous lump in my throat as my limbs stiffen
A young victim of such a incurable sickness, my heart bled

Clutter

Troubled thoughts, blurry images, aching memories
Searching for answers, hoping to find millions
Standing in litter piled high to her knees
She stands in her sea of confusion as the world darkens




Clutter.