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Lela

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

7 poems·Since September 2015

16, writes about mental illnesses. i'm many things and i've learned what's important and what isn't. i'm A WORK IN PROGRESS and that's okay. it's okay for you, too.

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wild child

September 23, 2015

i soar over grassy hills,

viridescent and glowing in the sun,

dark and gleaming indigo in the moonlight.

the tree encircles me

in its crooked and loving arms.

my tattered wings ache from

a long day

of running away.

i'll go back again

i always do eventually.

the tree creaks and

mice squeak.

i sleep in the verdant leaves

i borrowed from the tree.

the ebony sky

fades to coral and the stars

vanish into endless blue.

i leap from my limb

and 

my wings take me high

into the sky.

i'm going back

just like i told you i would.

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