“Anything​ that you can honestly think and feel that you deserve must come to you.” – Frederick J. Eikerenkoetter II

We fill our bodies with poison and expect good to recycle its way back to us, we preach hatred and jealousy only for it to be reciprocated into our lives. If someone does you wrong, deceives you, wish them well for the universe will catch up with their ill intentions. Wish them well for the universe will appreciate your kind heart.

i want to write beautiful poetry about the beautiful things in the world

i want to write beautiful poetry about the beautiful things in the world,
about how when the birds are having conversations our ears only hear the melodious chirps instead of the words underneath.
i want to write beautiful poetry about the beautiful things in the world,
about how the sky paints like Monet when the Sun wants to wake up somewhere else.
i want to write beautiful poetry about the beautiful things in the world,
about how the stars in the night resemble the stars in our eyes and our hearts,
about how instinct and survival perpetuate the world.
i want to write beautiful poetry about the beautiful things in the world,
about how the kindness and compassion of others will forever overrule the hatred and greed of our society.
i want to write beautiful poetry about the beautiful things in the world,
about how balance and synergy create and maintain the bare necessities,
about how opposites attract and love and hate and hurt and healing.
i want to write beautiful poetry about the beautiful things in the world,
about how we feel so deeply about things,
about how i feel so deeply about things.

almost sixteen

i think the most difficult part about being a teenager is having every intention to be independent but an entire world stopping you from doing so. it’s being invalidated because you’re still just a kid and also creating expectations because you’re too old for that now. it’s responsibility and trust. it’s heavy mistakes and quick decisions, impulsiveness and indecisiveness. it’s confusing although everything makes just enough sense. each second flies by but the days pass so slow. most of all it’s contradicting, it’s a glass that’s both half empty and half full. it’s everything and nothing at the same time.