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.
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 STONETo be understood is to be on part of the path to inclusivity.
RENEE STONEI 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.
RENEE STONETell me I’m sun-kissed, but you burn my skin. And you already told me, I was paper thin.
RENEE STONEStaring into the abyss full of art – hoping for the return of a glimmer or a spark.
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 STONEIt takes less for me to be impacted, for my state of being to worsen.
RENEE STONEIt felt vulnerable to have people know my weaknesses, but there is so much strength from going back to the start and re-determining who you are.
RENEE STONEWhen the silence fades and now sounds begin to bloom, I will grow to feel calm again. Healthily this time.
RENEE STONESomewhere the silence resonates, the clutter clears, and you’re set to start again.
RENEE STONEHere you are, another heartache to guard under my wings as I wait wondering when it’ll be time for me to fly.
RENEE STONEMy words decay. I grow as they fray, unbecoming in the passage of time.
RENEE STONEFlowers crown her with thorns, keeping her mind entrapped in a garden of lies – guarding her mind.
RENEE STONEI bear the fruits of your memory in the expression of my art for that is what you gave to the world.
RENEE STONEI 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.
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 STONE