Every day is an up and down spiral I have become a hurricane coming in with no warning ceasing to understand where my destruction has come from at all.
His skin sparkles like beach sand his eyes dancing endlessly with the sun for when his light embraced my darkness, I then understood why people prefer summer over winter.
It’s hard when all you want is the sky, chasing after the hues of pinks and blues, feeling that for once you’ve got a grip on clouds that swoosh through storms of your own. But it’s worse when you ask for the sun and receiving the soil stuck to your feet.
If you’ve ever climbed mountains, in the most intense storms. And all they ever did was walk up a hill on a clear day for you, you have so much love in you. Never settle for the hill for someday, someone will be at the top of the mountain.
My flower’s roots glue me down among the wet soil in which the thunder has stunned my growth. Maybe I’ve already grown through the storms and the sun is delayed in its rising.
