My amazing is not grace
My amazing's name is Glory
His sound is soothing patience
crisp...
like the air that lingers on a spring's morning
Glory!
His eyes strong and focused
never losing a word
nothing going unnoticed
He reels you in and you are lost...
in the moment
His smile is enticing
never is it phony, fake or compromising
His world; exclusive
Only welcoming to the deep, complicated and priveledged
He's an alien to the land of simplicity and common
yet, appreciative of all...
confident
His freedom does not ring
it bangs, it pounds
vibrates, shakes then breaks
crashes head on into your mind, your heart, your soul...
leaks into your bloodstream and takes total control
Glory!
A disease that's highly contagious
energy levels outrageous
Limitless is he,
amazing...
Glory, Glory, Glory!
Tai Truth
Saturday, January 7, 2012
If These Walls Could Talk...
I sit on the edge of my bed and look around this tiny room thinking...
boy, if these walls could talk?!
They would speak of sadness that has not been erased by the bright white paint on its walls
They'd tell the story of who, what, when, where and exactly how many falls.
They would remind you that I've been within them before
If these walls could talk...
They would say they could form oceans with the tears that I've shed
but since my pillows have collected many
they would form rivers instead
Describe to you in detail how I've tortured my bed...
forming a different maze in it every night...
to end up fetal positioned
holding myself ever so tight.
They would say...
"quite often she stares up at the ceiling
through her eyes to him scattered thoughts she's revealing".
If these walls could talk..
they would play back the sound of my voice when I'm having "one of my fits"...
angry and high pitched is how they would tell you I sound...
that they hear me running to them...
heels hard on the ground.
They'd tell you how I talk to myself as I write
that I shake maracas and bells while praying to soupterines every night
That I look in the mirror every once in a while
looking for happiness...
in a pink painted smile
That I open my phone seeking numbers to dial
on a quest for emotions, since mine are almost drained....
volatile
If they could talk...
they would give this sneak peak
into a world not so pretty
of secrets...
that this pretty girl keeps.
XOXO,
Someday BCD
boy, if these walls could talk?!
They would speak of sadness that has not been erased by the bright white paint on its walls
They'd tell the story of who, what, when, where and exactly how many falls.
They would remind you that I've been within them before
If these walls could talk...
They would say they could form oceans with the tears that I've shed
but since my pillows have collected many
they would form rivers instead
Describe to you in detail how I've tortured my bed...
forming a different maze in it every night...
to end up fetal positioned
holding myself ever so tight.
They would say...
"quite often she stares up at the ceiling
through her eyes to him scattered thoughts she's revealing".
If these walls could talk..
they would play back the sound of my voice when I'm having "one of my fits"...
angry and high pitched is how they would tell you I sound...
that they hear me running to them...
heels hard on the ground.
They'd tell you how I talk to myself as I write
that I shake maracas and bells while praying to soupterines every night
That I look in the mirror every once in a while
looking for happiness...
in a pink painted smile
That I open my phone seeking numbers to dial
on a quest for emotions, since mine are almost drained....
volatile
If they could talk...
they would give this sneak peak
into a world not so pretty
of secrets...
that this pretty girl keeps.
XOXO,
Someday BCD
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