how to write poetry like a white person
- the taste of you
- save me
- no wait save yourself
make sure to left align and god forbid touch a capital letter
So i’m submitting my paper to my teacher on the submission website and i clicked the wrong file to send her.
I sent her this gif on accident.
The box of old memories. The box of treasured memories. That is forever stored upon my bookshelf of my heart. Oh, how I am ever so careful to open it less I be consumed by the reminder of its contents. For those memories were of a variety of experiences. Laughs, kisses, and smiles to those of yelling, tears, and fighting. How much more do I take caution in spending time reading through this box? These memories are like a drug, like ecstasy, a euphoria of some sorts. They can get so intensive that I am sometimes drawn from reality. At times my body stays in place but my mind runs wild with the constant rush of memories that evade my defenses. I smile, I dance, I laugh oddly at the thoughts. It feels utterly wonderful and satisfying to fill one’s mind with the past, but at the end of it all one is left in anguish and struggling with grips on reality.
After all these years, they still have an affect on me. The way I act, the way I live, the things I believe are all affected by such memories. I cannot say that I love it as it hurts. I kept late at night wondering and pondering. I have this horrible urgency to keep my heart locked and secured away forever from anyone else. I have this anxiety of empty expectations.
They are like roses with thorns. They are utterly beautiful and something to remember, but they can be ever so prickly if one does not know how to handle such things.
there was a time when we dreaded the thought of coming near to You,
for we were guilty and You were angry with us,
but now we will praise You
because Your anger is turned away and You comfort us. Yes, and the very throne which once was a place of dread
has now become the place of shelter."
What a marvelous gift,
That the Creator of the universe,
Would die for a wretch like this.
I’ve got 99 problems and 98 of them can be attributed to poor time management and self control.
And I must be the king then