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mirror, mirror.(poem)


peering into the mirror her reflection is over grown. her envy growing out of control.

she’s to the point where she is unable to see herself anymore. her sanctimonious demeanor blurring her perception of herself reflection.

her self-importance burgeoning. she knows her reflection is withering.

the weeds masking her beauty. choking out the flowers that once dwelled among them.

the weeds are stealing her personality. draining her of life.

until her flowers are no more.


photography by: Seeing In Hues

waltz(poem)

waltzing through life with the ones we love.

sometimes falling out of step. stumbling to get back up.

the music of life beautiful at times, yet deafening at others.

the stress of perfection following every step.

the tempo causing confusion. memories becoming unclear.

waltzing to the same playlist. that playlist stuck on repeat.

or motions staying the same.

the same old waltz.

my love,(poem)

you were so young, my love. your hand wrapped around my figure. i remember holding you for the first time.

your mind so innocent. your heart pure.  your smile was perfection.

i remember when we got the call. my smile faded, my hands were shaking, tears rolling down my face.

they took you; it took three days for the news to come. you were gone….

when i saw you again, we were all dressed in black.  even though i did not say anything aloud, in my mind i said goodbye. 

i know in my heart you walked through the gates of heaven holding Jesuses’ hand. your smile the brightest it has ever been. 

the earth’s sad song(poem)

the clouds pour out as though they are sad.  they pour their heart and soul onto the ground.

the wind carrying their voices.  the clouds carry the tears of the ghosts of past.

the wind whistling to the beat of the rain. the sad song of the earth.

each drop representing the words the people of the past never got a chance to speak. a single drop a human’s tear.

those tears drying into something beautiful.  the earth’s flowers.

the concept of freedom(poem)Pt.4 in truth series.

the lake, a beautiful concept, yet it is dry.

the imagery we imagine perfect in every way, but frail.

the ground we stand on is crumbling.

the water is draining from sight.

the lake harder to reach.

holding onto the idea, yet the water is falling through our fingers.

the eagle dying of dehydration.