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 Jun 2017 kira
Meg
addict
 Jun 2017 kira
Meg
your energy is intoxicating
if this is addiction
i don't ever want to be sober
 May 2017 kira
Maya Angelou
Pretty women wonder where my secret lies.
I'm not cute or built to suit a fashion model's size
But when I start to tell them,
They think I'm telling lies.
I say,
It's in the reach of my arms
The span of my hips,
The stride of my step,
The curl of my lips.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

I walk into a room
Just as cool as you please,
And to a man,
The fellows stand or
Fall down on their knees.
Then they swarm around me,
A hive of honey bees.
I say,
It's the fire in my eyes,
And the flash of my teeth,
The swing in my waist,
And the joy in my feet.
I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Men themselves have wondered
What they see in me.
They try so much
But they can't touch
My inner mystery.
When I try to show them
They say they still can't see.
I say,
It's in the arch of my back,
The sun of my smile,
The ride of my *******,
The grace of my style.
I'm a woman

Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.

Now you understand
Just why my head's not bowed.
I don't shout or jump about
Or have to talk real loud.
When you see me passing
It ought to make you proud.
I say,
It's in the click of my heels,
The bend of my hair,
the palm of my hand,
The need of my care,
'Cause I'm a woman
Phenomenally.
Phenomenal woman,
That's me.
 May 2017 kira
Maya Angelou
A free bird leaps on the back
Of the wind and floats downstream
Till the current ends and dips his wing
In the orange suns rays
And dares to claim the sky.

But a BIRD that stalks down his narrow cage
Can seldom see through his bars of rage
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with a fearful trill
Of things unknown but longed for still
And his tune is heard on the distant hill for
The caged bird sings of freedom.

The free bird thinks of another breeze
And the trade winds soft through
The sighing trees
And the fat worms waiting on a dawn-bright
Lawn and he names the sky his own.

But a caged BIRD stands on the grave of dreams
His shadow shouts on a nightmare scream
His wings are clipped and his feet are tied
So he opens his throat to sing.

The caged bird sings with
A fearful trill of things unknown
But longed for still and his
Tune is heard on the distant hill
For the caged bird sings of freedom.
 May 2017 kira
Meg
forest
 May 2017 kira
Meg
if a tree falls in the forest and no one is around to hear it, does it make a sound?
if a teenager commits suicide and no one is around to notice, did they ever exist? when you look at it that way, high school feels a lot like deforestation
 May 2017 kira
Meg
s p a c e
 May 2017 kira
Meg
isn't it funny how a woman's worth is dependent on how little she exists? "lose weight, take up less space, shut your mouth, stay out of sight until we want to use you" we become shadows, we become all the places the light doesn't quite touch, we become translucent whispers of what could have been
 May 2017 kira
Meg
adventure girl
 May 2017 kira
Meg
Remember the adventure girl you used to be?
The girl who lived in the woods on weekends and only came home for dinner? (But never on time)
The girl with flowers in her hair and a smile on her face?
The girl who believed she could control the wind and the sea?
The girl with scabbed knees and blonde bangs and curls?
The tree climber?
The blow-a-dandelion-and-make-a-wish girl?
The girl who jumped in mud puddles and didn't think twice that her skirt was *****?
The play-pretend cloud-watcher?
The girl who wanted to fly?
I wonder where she is now and if she would like me.
 Jan 2017 kira
Meg
kaleidoscope
 Jan 2017 kira
Meg
At night,
when the sea is still,
you can't tell sky from water,
and everything is
convoluted mirrors
spiraling away into darkness:
an abyss of serpentine stars,
warping the night sky
into a kaleidoscope
of constellations.
The sky is full of stars,
and I get the euphoric sensation
that I am floating in space,
suspended in stellar time
with nothing but oblivion
and pinpricks of light
around me.
Somehow,
this brings me comfort.
It is reassuring
to pretend as though
I am significant
in this world.

— The End —