@trixdawson
@trixdawson
There are countless frequencies moving inside me like a wind-up doll Dream shutters are surrounded around me! I take refuge in the locked drawers of silence. My limp body, I know that I am a disciple of solitude, and I plant prayers on my thirsty lips. It's like the ideal of love, while words are standing still, this silence and walls that are the harbingers of the apocalypse for a lifetime: ah, the walls that are walking on me... Every wall is stained. Every wall is…
@trixdawson
My soul valued them and chose their speech carefully The morning of a night that ends is a rush. This is a vicious circle that goes on silently. Another big day that goes by with its night and day, its darkness and its light. What do you think about life, what are we doing in that huge day that has passed? What is our role in life? I think it's a big nothing. The only thing we do is to make judgments from where we sit, Our job is to pull someone, to blame someone all the…
@trixdawson
It's a journey that I can't return, where my soul knows the way I wrote my dreams singular and without proposals. I loved this endless bondage. Maybe it is considered as a courage and my victimization is hidden in my heart climate. There were times when I succumbed to my anger, of course, I shed tears after the people who were lost, even though it was actually me and no one I respected could know that I had neglected them. Don't be fooled by my smile, because I cry the most…
@trixdawson
I freed my heart to make up for lost time I took refuge in my pen and blank page in order to lighten the burden of the day I brewed after the tea I drank calmly, like the light that rains on the horizon of the seasons of regret and love. My wit. I am speechless. My soul. My reckless heart. My cheerful temperament. If I am emulated, I am myself again. And the rhythm of my being, the altitude of loneliness, I rush from numbers to wandering sentences. Uncertainty from climates.…
@trixdawson
I didn't feel like laughing today and I was only able to relieve the pain inside me I had lived in the bed of dreams. The self I give to busy every time I have difficulties. My broken heart. Valuable words. After all, I am the being that I stand for. Human beings have absolute judgments, and of course, there is no doubt that my past repeats itself day by day. So many feelings if it's a stampede. The ones that I could not prove and also: Most of all, my mind, where the…
@trixdawson
I'm a tiny fish in an ocean called life I have dreams, there are thousands of pieces falling from my face. I break my heart as much as I break, because in the climate called love I opened my eyes: I am a girl or I am a young girl. I am a woman or I am a child. I am a mother or I am a daughter of my family. I am the only being who can love like water. Those who cry behind my back are women again. The interesting thing is that the woman is also the enemy of the woman. The…
@trixdawson
The adventure called life is a silent traveler I wandered in the cities inside me I don't think it's possible. I have the privilege of being a hypothesis anyway. While the teeth of the season are falling out, I can't deny it: under the title of the world and the joy of living, which I embraced with my urge to write that I neither stumbled upon a dead climate nor, being a buffoon story hero, I couldn't stop. I ask you how right it is to bring an opening. Whatever wound has…
@trixdawson
The ink mark on my wings is a sign of hope and love I share the pain of the children fleeing the war. We meet in our prayers, whatever their religion, I wish freedom with love. I reproach in the name of world peace, I feel the pain of far away countries, but I am close to all the oppressed and all good hearts. I loved him from afar. Far away is fire, I knew I would fire it. I missed nothing more than I missed. I wanted by my side I waited for him in my always trembling…
@trixdawson
The wind blows reverse and people always contrary to my soul My words from the dripping blood of the pen I gear. Sometimes the dignity is sometimes empty -speaking, or my favorite flower in a chamomile field, and my favorite flower, while the daisies moved away from my rose identity, and I didn't look at the chamomile fortune or something. I have feelings that make retaliation again tonight and I'm swinging like a huge excavation truck on the road and sometimes I drive back…
@trixdawson
I listen to the song of the poems I can't write for hours It's my current without being silent! And I'm waiting for the night so you will come to my dreams. What did you take when you leave me? I take my pen. It stays before completing the first word. I can write neither a poem nor what you pass on you. I am looking for traces of you with a thousand hope. My breaths that don't fit in my rib cage are witnessing my wasted hopes. I know actually their states, but I still can't…
@trixdawson
My captivity ends only when I write and I love it with the courage of being human I'm in a mess in dreams. I am my love and rebellion overflowing from the pages I scribbled like a test paper where my mind angels are proved. I didn't open a wing for a principal love. I am the case that I put my silence. If I put it in my soul, my body from that lock and steel was never futile, but my love that the divine love of the divine love has risen as high as I am running to my Lord.…