Writing

Cursed.

Am I cursed?

Cursed to tie myself to people, swearing that they’re going to be different.

Only for resentment to grow like ivy, sentencing me to a place of discontent.

I’ve called it paranoia.

i think i know why aliens haven't visited us. they're 

definitely watching with rapt attention, waiting 

to see how we climb the highest wall 

humanity built for ourselves in the past 

What is done alone can be done together, 

with anger can turn love, 

with hope there will always be a light. 

The tide calls 

it beckons hearts 

it soothes souls 

it will encompass you within its salty wrath 

give you praise, accept you 

and then spit you back out. 

Siren’s yell pounds on my brain,

graffiti paints the walls in the letters unknown,

I feel so small beneath the metal mountains above,

the honking brings fear into my peaceful existence,

She walked out into the train station slowly, letting it hit her head on. The bustle---the everything in front of her was overwhelming. And amazing, but mostly overwhelming.