I can feel the dark corners
of my soul hollering at the wind.
Trying to fill a void
in between the empty spaces.
The wild woman in me
has no name.
And I feel old
with no regrets and no shame.
The moonlight touches your eyes
I look to nature for Love
and peace in my hands.
The only joy I’ve known
is making bread
Such a divine order
To be reborn in our children
and our brothers.
Man to man,
we are not alone.
But with out you
its the worst storm.
this old heart
that in piety alone
it will not be broke.
everybody who reblogs this I will scroll through(creep) your blog and leave a message in your ask box on how I predict your life is like. What kind of a person you come off to me as/ what your interests and hobbies are. I will also leave nice little compliments. not my idea but I’d love to do this
(please reblog so I don’t look dumb)
So my mom and I have been working the same waitress job for 5-6 years now. She had been waitressing years before, but this is recently. Anyway, about… 15 minutes ago this guy she waited on left and told her to take care. Just that. Prior to this she had talked to him about Italy. Her people are from Florence, this and that, and she said she’s never been. She’s got 8 years of art education and she’s working a waitress job. It’s pretty… Sad and disappointing, I guess. Her and my father divorced 6 years ago and she hasn’t had a real job ever. Just been stuck in a small town she’s not from.
This man who we have never seen before tipped her 1000 dollars for a trip to Italy. Walked out, not another word.
…you know. Just when I start to lose faith in humanity….Hm.
As a child
I knew the entire world as my playground.
I made all the rules
and knew all the boys.
I would gather girls to hit boys.
Boys use to make fun of me a lot.
I had an ugly boy hair cut
and my hair was puffy.
I hated my mom for that.
Juan Carlos, called me names
and use to hit me.
But when no one was watching he would always ask for my help
just to be near me.
And all my friends said he liked me.
I secretly did
and in third grade he was my boyfriend.
But I had grown older, matured.
I knew better by fifth grade
than to be with a boy that made fun of you
and secretly was nice to you.
I walked home alone.
My mom was never home.
I washed my clothes on weekends
and sneaked off in the summer days
to the park just to play
and look at older boys.
Boys, boys, boys.
Seems that’s all there was.
I can’t remember ever feeling so alone
as when I was a child.
At a young age I noticed how badly this world could treat you.
How we treated each other.
How we treat the elderly, children and the weak.
But I have never known such courage
and such determination as a child’s.
They are brave and out spoken.
Not afraid to dream.
I wish I could have taken that with me
rather than the monsters in my closet.
And that was my childhood.
Bad, cold, confused, lonely
but I rather take the days
I saw the sun set.
Worse things happened
that my mind has blocked.
Some moms were abusive to their kids, my friends.
I see woman like that now.
I can tell them apart from the rest.
They have an empty look in their eyes
substituted by rage.
Rage they probably felt in their childhood.
And it goes on and on like tradition.
I hope to break mine.