Cheryl M.


The WeathermanSitting upon a park bench in the cold fog of an early December morning, considering the possibilities of the day to come. He said it would rain.The Weatherman
Watching the sun rise over the horizon, contemplating the dew on the grass, she wonders what her mother would say if she came back with grass stains on her dress.
Walking through the crowded streets she watches the screen in the window, anticipating the return of the weather channel. He said it would rain, and it hasn't yet.
Wandering the secluded streets of some suburb, she scrapes her knee when


Locked LoveBlown away. Locked in this hateful place. The key has long disintegrated, Dust at the bottom of my heart.Locked Love


IndependenceAnger swells deep within my chest, producing a feral growl of horrible loathing, not for my enemies or those I hateIndependence
but for myself and undying urge for dependency.
Standing amidst a crowd of caring people, each lending a shoulder to lean on, none of them aware of the hatred inside, building and swarming like a cloud of angry hornets.
Why am I so dependent upon you? Why can I not stand by myself, to be an individual?
Why can I not demand an answer from myself for my own problems? Why do I need you there to hold my hand along the way? Why c
~Michael
--
[link]
You're a wonderful Artist, you deserve it.
~M
--
[link]
x Takk
Previous Page12345...Next Page