Tell me I’m sun-kissed, but you burn my skin. And you already told me, I was paper thin.
RENEE STONEI bear the fruits of your memory in the expression of my art for that is what you gave to the world.
More Renee Stone Quotes
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I bear the fruits of your memory in the expression of my art for that is what you gave to the world.
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Somewhere the silence resonates, the clutter clears, and you’re set to start again.
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To be understood and accepted could change so many lives.
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When the silence fades and now sounds begin to bloom, I will grow to feel calm again. Healthily this time.
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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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They tell me summer is coming, and soon we’ll be dancing on the shore. Waiting for the moonlight to light me up amongst the starlight.
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The thought of you having to try hurts because it feels like you should have known to let me go before you grabbed ahold.
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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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I overwhelmingly write from sadness – in songs, in prose, in verse.
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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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I write poems of the past; they reveal the reasons we didn’t last.
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I hide myself in the galaxies of my creations – unsure of who I am beyond that.
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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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To be understood is to be on part of the path to inclusivity.
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To the songs you haven’t heard from me. To the pains you haven’t felt for me.
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I’m writing on a blank page full of chances and hope.
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My words decay. I grow as they fray, unbecoming in the passage of time.
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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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Staring into the abyss full of art – hoping for the return of a glimmer or a spark.
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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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Here you are, another heartache to guard under my wings as I wait wondering when it’ll be time for me to fly.
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I wish you could feel it when it’s dark at night, and I think of you when I pass the streetlights. But I know you feel the care without me being there.
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It takes less for me to be impacted, for my state of being to worsen.
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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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Flowers crown her with thorns, keeping her mind entrapped in a garden of lies – guarding her mind.
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Body and mind aren’t separated. And so all these things I write, they are felt in the aches of my heart.
RENEE STONE