We Are Found


In the songs that are unheard of. Told as stories slipped in hidden books. We are not you, we do not play your childish games. Our world is ours. There is only how we got here. There is what there is because it should. We plead from the divine. We practice poetry in our deeds. The forlorn begs for her chance to dream, in the cheap exhilaration of commonplace praise.

We need not seek to be adored.

This entry was posted in personal, words. Bookmark the permalink.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s