The Girl Behind The Red Door... |
I'm Emily. 21. Film major. walking jukebox. Every word I cannot express logically comes out in a mess of poems and writing or whatever you may want to call it. Some of you draw. Some of you write. Some of you take photos or sing or play an instrument or scream your words out loud when nobody's listening. But that's the beauty of life. Those are the things that make us feel alive. So, I'm here to share with you the things that make me feel just that. oh yes, and what I write on here is mine so pleaseee don't steal it >.< |
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Notes Life Notes (II)I could describe it as a daily wish. Possibly even a prayer if I stretched the hand that held my pen high enough that I may get a little inspiration.
But it’s really more of a craving.
This insatiable hunger that I just can’t shake.
It rattles me until I am dizzy and I think too much and I cannot think anymore so I just go to sleep instead.
But if this desire was easily attainable,
well,
would I think it a blessing?
I am already cursed.
If I could just place some sense in my words,
if they could flow from page to page and
stick to minds and bind to hearts
I could make tears dry and souls catch fire and
lover’s eyes lock,
well,
would I have done my job?
If I could only stop feeling so fast.
Maybe my words would come out with more eloquence
More reliability
More talent
More energy
but then,
What else would I have to wish for?
Can anybody hear me out there?(Source: sunafterthestorm)
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