We walk in circles, never knowing when to end the cycle our hearts put us in.
RENEE STONEI want to tell them how tired I am because I don’t think it shows. But maybe it’s the same for them – all strangers to the weight each of us carries. So alone, we carry these loads.
More Renee Stone Quotes
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I’m writing on a blank page full of chances and hope.
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Staring into the abyss full of art – hoping for the return of a glimmer or a spark.
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My body is a field site of muscle memory and weathered bones.
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And I saw forever in your eyes ’til the sunset started to dim your light. You told me you’d always hold me tight, but your warmth faded with the bright.
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The free for all of love – these tiny acts within our capability. In turn, reciprocation is of no concern. We just want people to listen and learn that love is granted to all.
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I search for comedy scripts, I watch happy shows, In hopes that laughter will be the remedy I end my day with.
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When you and the world are out of breath, take the steps to ensure your own needs are met. By the moment you know someone can’t on their own, you’ll hopefully be ready to help.
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I grew up learning history about communities that would support their people (the idea that it takes a village), but all I see are so many people left on their own.
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I overwhelmingly write from sadness – in songs, in prose, in verse.
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They hit like waves, the memories of those old summer days. Memories you’d have thought to erase, but they crash ashore without haste.
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I hide myself in the galaxies of my creations – unsure of who I am beyond that.
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We’re so distant, words can’t save us.
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I try to build myself a bridge to cross every time I start to ruminate on my thoughts.
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I can assure you that I don’t wake up every day with a smile upon my face, and the distance from happiness in the morning isn’t set at a constant rate.
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Why is it that you have more practice describing weaknesses than strengths? It’s not your fault they never went to the lengths to teach you how to value your strengths.
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And so, my ‘What if’s’ became ‘What’s next?’
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Flowers crown her with thorns, keeping her mind entrapped in a garden of lies – guarding her mind.
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When you write me into your story, don’t set my end in stone. Feel free to let me go. I’d like to join your story, but remember I have my own.
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I can’t take it all in or else I’ll grow cold when the heat already escapes my fingers and toes.
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Healing means looking within when you want to move on. Healing means letting go when your grip is too tight.
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I spill words among pages so that I can’t say my thoughts are stuck in cages. Can’t say I didn’t let it out when I can say for sure I wrote it down.
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I lost touch with the world around me – gone unnoticed by that which surrounds me, but I must find the presence of that which grounds me if I am to once again grasp onto everything I lost touch with.
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Let go of the honey-sweet lies for the bittersweet truths.
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Tell me I’m sun-kissed, but you burn my skin. And you already told me, I was paper thin.
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My words decay. I grow as they fray, unbecoming in the passage of time.
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People struggle with words that spill and overwhelm you because they themselves are sinking.
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