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Alicia

If you don't learn to write your own story, someone else will write it for you

1 poem·Since November 2012

I. . .er. . . .Sometimes I write poems. . .I guess. . .

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Blocks

November 11, 2012
Gray blocks lay colorless, Scattered about, with no purpose, Not a single one can do something for itself, Not a single one can work to help itself. As the blocks gather, They become something, Stacked on by one, They are a tower, filled with power, adorned with pride. But those that are left alone, Blocks of no use, Can just be thrown away, Can’t they? Those blocks could never reach one another, Spread out so thin as they are, Those blocks could never be with each other, Not by the gleaming tower’s eyes, Not while they lack they're faithful pride.
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