Poems about Health
Then he took the respect she had for Herself and the wonders from the earth around Her
Today is my eighteenth birthday, and I am tired I am tired of making myself small
I’m a good person, with a bad past Happiness could never last
warm sunny mornings to cruel endless nights: a sleepless zombie,
I started in a nest, My messy hair stayed a mess. My Mom always knew I could not follow rules.
We are created without consent Given to those with supreme claim to us Molding us in the image they see fit
Dear Itzmir, We started out as friends, then we became more than what we started out as.
a boy shivers, though no glacial nerve rests within his skin;
Her eyes sparkle blue bright and full and stormy they makes me think of hydrangeas covered in dew
in my head something was not right it took time to realize