supershadowhuntr95

The color purple cannot be defined Accurately by just one lonely word. Just as all shades of purple are refined, So too are emotions that can be heard And felt with this color. A darker shade Is seen as elegant, royal to some; While others see it as a masquerade For scary, deeper feelings to become Invisible. In contrast, bright lilac Can be both infantile and adult to All diff’rent eyes. The shades calm and attack; There's not much a single person can do To influence a reaction. Maybe That is why the color purple suits me.

The sweet, beautiful blue Of a sunlit sky is worth The wait after a storm. Sometimes, all you need is time For things to change, to get better. It is not always kind, But Patience is aware of this. Like her virtuous namesake, Patience Is an expert in the game of waiting. Her twin - Greed - is not nearly as skilled at waiting And expects everything to be handed to her. Patience's understanding, though, is     clearer than the blue Oceans: time moves strangely, but having patience With all things can make everything worth While in the end. She can see this with her kind, Silvery eyes: most things are not instant, good things take t

                                                                           WRITING                                                                                                                 is                                                                                                         my escape,                                                                                                      but it is                                                                                                   also the                                                                                                source of  

You always told me my hair looked better when worn long and curled. You always told me I was not the type to pull off winged eyeliner or bold, colorful lipstick. You always told me I looked like a boy if I didn't wear skirts or dresses. You always made me present myself a certain way . . . . . . but now you're gone, and I no longer have any idea who I truly am. "Memories consume, like opening the wound" that has been left on my heart. You shaped me - molded me - until it was almost impossible for me to begin fresh. Until that time, however . . . I wake up at 8:15 in the morning so I don't waste the entire day like you hated. Look at an ol