Jazz hands

Running with the wolves a

So weak I force myself to stand.

My mouth covered by the upper hand.

Cries in the night, for just one more life.

Memories of my childhood when I dream.

Anything I would give to be wrapped in the summer,

Smile of my innocence.

Lost inside a poem of unrequited pain.

I close my eyes searching for the light to guide me home.

My sweet place I haven't forgot I won't lose hope.

By Deana Marie

2016/7/8

Reviews

[Adam Adams]

That's deep and heartfelt. Sometimes, it's all memories that keep us all awake and alive. Though, most of the times, it leaves us all shattered in pain, esp. when we beg for one more time - or life - to be lived in same possession of childhood once we all trudged or passed through, happily or sadly.

Very deep stuff. Looking forward to reading your work, Deana.

[Deana Marie]

Adams.
I apologize that I'm just now reading your words.
Thank you very kindly for being here. I appreciate like minded people. You understand me like as if you are me. Even more gorgeous. I'm a child of mercury. I have lived a weathered life. In which the trauma turned me into a beautiful god. If you will. The memories are so vivid. Even fro. The 1300's they still remain a testimony. I love you brother.
I have new words. I'm going to write forevermore.