I also have this on but warning it’s kind depressing
And it’s a mixture of a story and poetry
Emotions are like a stream
They just flow and flow
With out a single care
Some can control it
But most can’t
Just like me
I’ve tired to dam it up and turn it into a lake
But every single time the wall will break
I try to push away those who make me feel
But they always return anyway with more zeal
Sometimes I just wish I could run away from my stream
But instead
I just bottle it up and don’t let them see,
This stream that lives inside of me.
Regan dropped her pen and her hands were shaking. She glanced at the page that was once empty, and it was covered in tears and scratchy writing. She stared at it for a while, but after a minute…
Regan wiped her eyes and regained his composure. Then dropped her little note book in the desk drawer and locked it.
Her time to cry was over, and her foster parents in an hour would call her down for dinner.
They aren’t supposed to see her red eyes wet with fresh tears so she needs to stop now.
And she did.
Dinner was a blur.
There was shitty mashed potatoes with no butter, a stir fry of vegetables that tasted worse than musty water, and oily hamburger helper.
Despite its lack of cooking skill Regan was grate full for the meal. In her foster parents words,
” They were providing her with a house, food, and schooling. He should be grateful.”
And she was to the fullest of his abilities. She wanted them to like her. To accept her as one of their own. Too many places had sent her away, and too many people never wanted her. She wanted them to be different, and needed them to accept her.
So she ate her food with no complaint and headed off to do her chores. Tonight she had dishes. One of the things she hated the most, but she was willing to do it. She would do anything to make them want her.
She even acted righteous at church with them. As if she had been a part of religion her whole life instead of the last two weeks. That didn’t matter though.
A few days ago she had accidentally broken a plate and that’s when she figured out she was drag in the family,
” everything you do causes more problems!” The mom had said.
” You have been such a brat this last week. It makes sense why nobody wanted you. Not even your actual parents did!” The rest of the family mumbled under their breaths.
That's when she started to try poetry. It was rough at first but after the countless poems she wrote till midnight pouring out not only tears but her heart, she had finally caught the hang of poetry.
It’s a thing of the heart,
Something that only emotions can truly start.
They don’t have to be extreme.
But you do need to tie them together with rhymes as the string.
Ever since Regan discovered poetry it’s the only way she can truly feel free
