CelestialMidnight

    There is no Frigate like a Book      To take us Lands away      Nor any Coursers like a Page      Of prancing Poetry –      This Traverse may the poorest take      Without oppress of Toll –      How frugal is the Chariot      That bears the Human Soul – - Emily Dickinson

I'm not dead but I'm not alive either. Am I merely asleep? I feel weightless yet heavy at the same time. Why am I unable to move? I'm finally free but I'm trapped inside my own body. Are these dreams even reality? I want to go home but I also want to stay. Why can't I wake up?

She whispers in the moonlight, calling your name Beckoning, beckoning, the wind carries you away Wolves howl, and the silver moon weeps The blood red lake guards the ruby of fate Hush, hush The wild wind blows Hush, hush The ruby only knows Hush, hush The wolves must howl Hush, hush She is the Grey Owl Hush, hush Listen Silence

This is a poem I wrote for an eighth grade English Honors class. The assignment had to include things like hyperboles, metaphors, similes, and oxymorons so it might be a bit cheesy at some points, but I received praise for it nonetheless. Anyway, enjoy ~ ~ Every day is a new endeavor. Will I overcome this dreadful disease? Or shall I succumb to it? I'm drowning in apprehension. Every day is a new beginning. Will my Lord and Savior emancipate me? That I highly doubt. I wait, wait, wait. I'll never be rehabilitated. Every day is a new beginning. I'm like a caterpillar. A caterpillar that just might grow into an awfully pretty butterfly. A