jaded vines grow thick, running up my spine, black and green, teal running to my fingertips, drops of fear and anger tainting the blood-pool (she isn't yours, or anyone's) --out of control and frothing from the inside, stretching, strangling, suffocating and seething (the voyage isn't yours to take) --so let her go, free-falling through the ashen sky-- the fall won't take her life, the dive can't take her ambition: her roots run deep and tangled ...she will always be grounded, in her own sense-- she will always be grounded… (she isn't yours, or anyone's) …so let her go.
Friday, January 8, 2010
time to let go
Labels:
acceptance,
ambition,
childhood,
grounded,
growing up,
just do it,
just let go,
let go,
letting go,
moving on,
past life,
personality,
poetry,
prose,
prose poetry
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