Princess-Warrior

Oasis A vacant house, and forgotten yard, Abandoned for aspirations. Neither used nor abused, lonely fireplace so cold; time is its only companion. Its grounds an unkempt jungle, wild and free of restriction, the flowers escape persecution. Past property lines, in faraway lands, the world continues to move forward. But for this one place, another realm exists, where the sands of time don't fall. A vacant house, and forgotten yard, Abandoned for aspirations. Yet for a young child, wandering in search of adventure, the house is a lost treasure.

The Rivers Run Red Oh how I love the color red Cheeks, colored with breath. Lips like vivid rose petals. She is so lovely. Her voice is so soothing at the height of beauty, hushed yet singing. Her beauty coats the floor, and is splashed against the walls. Not even the ceiling is spared. I can feel it on my face, still fresh, still warm with life. Glorious! Red is such a magnificent color, but others are so selfish, always keep it to themselves. But I shall share it. I shall share it with the world. Then all will see the beauty of the scarlet flow. The world will rain blood.

Reflection My mind is soaring on blue-crested wings, seeking truth in words of the Lord. My thoughts race in affluent frenzy, trapped like a raven in a sandstorm. My brain is sluggish and addled, an addict of pensivity, on the unending quest for validation in a world that holds no truth. Life is overwhelming, yes. Its magnificence drowns me.

Seven Ways of Looking at a Streetlamp  1 Dull, grey-tinged green, paint far from its prime. Smooth and dirty metal, caked in greasy dust; It watches people pass.  2 Few know the moon's secrets but the streetlamp sees it all and keeps them safely hidden.  3 A passive individual, content to do its duty, offers a helpful hand to all who pass by without ever being asked.  4 The streetlamp is a child's nightlight, like an animal's natural instinct, a lost-and-found for the eyes. But not a cure for fear.  5 Borrow the sun's light, give it transparent castle walls, then stand it high and mighty.  6 Having seen the evils of war, a soldier with

The Coast The sun shines brightly, blanketing my skin with cozy warmth.   The wind blows at varied strengths, as if unfocused, driving away the sun’s heat. I can hear it in my ears. I can taste it on my tongue.   The salty wind has already mussed my hair into sticky, impossible tangles. Bird calls of every kind ring out across the sky and the shadow of a pelican darts past.   I can even hear the sound of the plants dancing against each other in the wind. The faded gray wood catches at my skin, the rusty nails and cracked steps ask that I never leave. The ocean is heard above all else, for it rules over this land. I can n

How can it hurt so much? How can my insides feel so hollow? Like there is nothing. All I want to do is curl into a ball while my heart pours down my cheeks. Will that help? Will that make it go away? For how long? Forever? For a few minutes? No. It will return. It always does.   Get out. Please, I don't deserve this. Do I? What did I do, please tell me. I'll do anything to make this hurt go away.   It's ice. Warm ice, ice with needles. A lack of breath, like strep throat.  A desert in my lungs.  The very air around me seems to be stealing my life.  I can't move, I can't stop.   How can this hurt me so much? Tears form like welts o