Looking at life
from both sides.
Looking at the people too.
The good and the wicked.
I smiled at whoever played me.
Counting my blessings.
Laughing alone,
I take pride in everything.
I'm glad they played me.
I'm happy they treated me brutally.
Like trash, I was thrown out.
In the streets, I slept.
Tears became my water.
Throughout my drought season,
Who will dare today?
for those days.
I spent them aimlessly outside.
All have fallen short.
Victory has followed me.
The tide has turned, and so has life.
changes arise,
The wicked glanced at me from a distance.
Without knowing who I am,
They smiled and said,
"she's blessed"
Oh, yeah, I am!
About the Creator
Gloria Penelope
Every creative piece is just me telling a story. Enjoy my creative writing!
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Twisting Through the Doorways
A grand bronze-coloured staircase leads nowhere. It is adorned in dim and sensual lights, the golden glimmer of the chandelier adding elegance and richness to the room. This is the biggest room in the unknown home. A house made of multi-sized doors leading to multi-dimensional rooms. Some exist in daylight, some exist sideways against child-like postered walls.
By Oneg In The Arctic4 days ago in Horror
Comments (5)
You're definitely blessed! Wonderful poem!
Gorgeous, rich strength and resilience! I loved this!
A lot of emotion and inner strength are reflected in your prose; I admire that. Excellent piece.
Best! I love this! ❤️
It is both cute and profound.