Open Letter
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I know you're hurt. I know you're broken. I know that you thought the last time that this happened was truly going to be the last time. I want to start off by saying that it's okay. It is okay to not be okay.
my dora,
i wish i could tell you
i didn’t care
that you were just some sweet girl
i knew some sweet summer
who kissed me too fast
like you knew
time was
runningout
Dear God,
Why?
Why do we hurt the ones we love the most?
Why is there pain, fear, loss, greed, malice, bitterness, anger, and selfishness in the world and in my own life?
I bring you sweaty palms,Dried on my Sunday best.I bring fear and sympathy,In solidarity.I will give posters drenched in
May the tired souls of the restless and stressed be pitied and blessed,
May the lost souls of the faithless find comfort and solace,
May the children of this world be guided towards edification,
Dear friend Dear father Dear lord Dear creator Dear god That's what you are Right?My questions overwhelm meAnd even now I doubt When will I learn to trust you,Live free, and Give my all to youGod I'm tiredTired of knowing of you But not knowing yo
Dear Teachers,
The answer is no, I did not do my homework last night. “Why?” You ask, waiting for an excuse that will be dismissed before the words leave my lips.
To a star crossed miracle, to a creature of my own flesh, my gift from whatever the hell is looking out for me,
do not bury your head
Are you the you I wanted to be back when I was me, or do you do what you do because you have to?
I’m writing to inform you that empty crowds aren’t good enough a reason to form a fist. Don’t strike against my objective. I apologize that you’re getting tired of the ache of holding a pen, too tightly, too long.
