We Gambol Dances That Oppose Our Hearts.
We gambol dances that oppose our hearts.
We beam smiles that contradict our feelings.
We walk into roads that tremble our souls
We get to grisps with things our bodies loathe
Our hearts are wrecking and agonizing yet;
we must remember not to weep since tears have been labeled for the weak and we yearn to be counted among the valiants.
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Love and sadness, Hope and breakage, God and endurance, Politics and suffering. Science and destruction, Education and slavery, Race and division, Life— life, and life.
She was covered in flowers, blooms of every scent and hue. Yet, she was so alone— the kind of loneliness that could kill. Imagine tombstones, not of the forgotten, but of the murdered, adorned with flowers of all sorts. People had spoiled her with flowers.
You have been numb and dumb,
isn’t it time you said something for yourself ?
It might matter mate
It might be a change for us but mostly a
spark to take you there were you image.
Permanent holes drilled by mirrors
Am not hopeless, yes, but am remained with a hope that can sustain me only and nobody else. Am not even right to be near to for am a time bomb ticking and i don’t want to burst with anybody.
He does, what he wants, when he wants, how he wants and the atheist won't accept it, that even in there factual existence He was always aware. God, does, what he wants, when he wants, how he wants Period
A life-changing epiphany.
A complication.
A trepidation
that even in
the insurgents,
the ones with
bottles and bottles
of red pills,
the Mavericks.
Within them,
lies those
still
enslaved by
the very fruits of their rebellion.
she got to realize time to time, that she was a granite. She was a person never seen anywhere on this planet at least not in the places she had been too.
And the prominent
question man
is not in who
loves us,
but
in who returns
the love
when we offer
it first.
the little self in me whispers in this midnight abyss that I am not forgotten that I am alive that am a river and I can flow wherever I wish too. The little self in me whispers in this midnight abyss that there is a starlight that I have to look a little hard with huge amour-propre that only then will the starlight unvail its light onto the path that i must take out of the abyss.
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