aloha!
|
GO TO MY TUMBLR FOR MORE : http://adrianamiaow.tumblr.com/
 adriana a. © 2009 There's not a good poet I know who has not at the beck and call of his memory a vast quantity of poetry that composes his mental library. -Anthony Hecht |
profile
|
 My name's Adriana. I don't exactly have a nickname. I'm very variable, sensitive , experience one embarassing event every day, and yet surprisingly mature. Heh. I, along with 186 million other girls in the world, suffer from an inferiority complex. For me, I like to see the beauty in things. I like art. But I'm not all obsessed over it. I like the beauty of it. I have this insane fixation that I will meet my soulmate by chance. Guess I'm not a big believer in slow development. I'm in PRCS's Modern Dance, 3/5. Profiles: Facebook | friendster | |
affiliates
|
eemah pavi li atiqah aisyah elly |
hidayat hidayat2 hizan atiyya maliah nadia |
tracy wei chuen zaf priya sally |
qinny mus atin isabel nabila natasha |
dearest friends
links
|
blogskinner 2/6♥ 6w♥ site site |
site site site site site |
site site site site site |
site site site site site |
thanks to:
memories
|
Thursday, March 26, 2009 @ 3/26/2009 09:52:00 PM
|
|
You don't understand, poetry is not something, that you can command. I won't act, as if I can do it so well, But it's a fact, On which I will not dwell. It might not mean much to you, probably just a bunch of rhymes, but to me my words are true, now something more than to just pass the time. 'My work is sacred', any artist will tell you that, you'll be stared down in hatred, if you dare not leave it intact. I'm deeply hurt, my work changed, These feelings, I cannot seem to re-arrange. Poetry is made of thoughts, emotions from my heart and soul. A stirring within me, Out and polished like gold. I'm trying my hardest, but it just doesn't work out. Forget this crap, I'm all tired out. I'm so touchy these days, yet you act like you're the only one hurt. You hit me in many ways, especially with speech so curt. And now I'm falling apart, I don't feel pleased, to present a work not of my art. Something deep inside just says, " How do you always get away?" I'm tired of being so responsible, but to give up this trait, is almost impossible. I feel like just falling behind, instead of being the one to pull all the others to climb. I'm tired of being at your command, at your mercy, with the wave of one hand. I'm tired of being the slave, I'm not going to be that forever, not until to the grave. I'm a pushover, that i know, but I can climb over, with others in tow. I can do this, yes I can, but right now I have no hope, to finish what I'd planned. Tomorrow's going to be as bad a day as today's has been. I'll try, nevertheless. |