As she sighed, Thelma sat down, grabbed the pen and let it flow I’m scared of living,This is why I keep saying ‘no’Why I yell
Even though Silence, in essence, is one,It encompasses many degrees It all begins with the silence of discomfort,When the very first holes widen their outer
I once believed the Night was darkUntil she lifted the curtainAnd showed her ways to let light pierceThrough its bleak filters and black frames I
Your insecurities : they’re what keeps me away from youwhat chops my attentiveness and jerks my sentencesSo blatantly bleeding, they splash around and drown me.
At the top of our breathing inAt the bottom of our breathing out,Falling asleep, at Mindfulness DuskWaking up, at Consciousness Dawn 4 points on the
Now you have grazed the grass of all those dried up pens : Sit outside all fences. Surprisingly appeased, as no attacker roams Harmoniously faithful