I wonder why I’m so empathetic, why people perceive me to be so kind. I don’t want my heart to burn when there’s no one burning mine.
RENEE STONEI wonder why I’m so empathetic, why people perceive me to be so kind. I don’t want my heart to burn when there’s no one burning mine.
RENEE STONEWhen 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.
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.
RENEE STONEMy words decay. I grow as they fray, unbecoming in the passage of time.
RENEE STONEI search for comedy scripts, I watch happy shows, In hopes that laughter will be the remedy I end my day with.
RENEE STONEI 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.
RENEE STONEIt takes less for me to be impacted, for my state of being to worsen.
RENEE STONEIf I could reverse time, I would spend more time looking into what ailed my loved ones – would have learned more about medical gaslighting.
RENEE STONEWe’re so distant, words can’t save us.
RENEE STONEThey 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.
RENEE STONEAnd so, my ‘What if’s’ became ‘What’s next?’
RENEE STONEAnd 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.
RENEE STONEI 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.
RENEE STONEI write poems of the past; they reveal the reasons we didn’t last.
RENEE STONEImagine the unknown of what the beings around you cover up and struggle with everyday.
RENEE STONEI overwhelmingly write from sadness – in songs, in prose, in verse.
RENEE STONE