New adventures

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I’m coming up on a new

Boat to ride.

I have just one more sea to sail

Before I step on board.

My ship mates will change

My first mates will stay but many others will simply jump

Over board.

I am excited to see new waters,

Fight for new treasures, And redraw some maps…

 

I’m coming up on a new trail to hike up.

I see the fork in the road,

With many twists and turns.

My party will divide, some walking a new path

Others following me on mine.

 

There is a new wonder of the world,

Growing in tomorrow lands,

Hiding past the badlands.

I want to be the first to explore it.

The first to become engulfed by its mystery.

 

On Shakespeare’s

‘Tomorrow, and tomorrow, and tomorrow’

A brand new quest, brought by fate, shines

Its light

On new adventures.

 

Angelina Rosa, diligently writing for you Writingdilegently

 

 

Scattered Through The Pages

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Looking through my own journals I’m overcome with waves of emotion from the last few years. Hate, love, sorrow, hope and exhaustion plagued the workings of my mind so forcefully and so thoroughly. I feel so much in such a little slice of time that I find myself nearing the self destruct button over and over and over again.

Let’s be honest, some of the entries here, let alone my personal journal frustrate me in their lack of or over absorption of depth. That’s okay though. It’s personal growth. Inner evolution, if you will. I can accept my useless blabber because I understand it differently.

I remember feeling so incredibly down for such a long period of time that I just could not take it. I suffered horribly and mostly silently. It was only through half suppressed tears and scribbles on paper that it showed. If my journals could talk they would probably tell you that my words simply screamed ‘help me’ across each and every page.

Like i said though, it wasn’t all bad. I had moments of hype, moments of absolute bliss. They inevitably came crashing down harshly around me, but they were there.

I’m not sure why I’m saying any of this, or if any of you care, but I just felt like I needed to. I needed to get a few thoughts out there.

 

Angelina Rosa, writing diligently for you, Writingdilegently

Inner City Kid.

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I grew up in a bit of a box that I ‘ll call the inner city. Its not to be confused with a small town in the middle of nowhere, no its far too big. I’ve lived here my whole life, aside from little vacations here and there. If you take it for face value you would rush right out of it and into the actual ‘city’, the part of the state with buildings that eat up the sky. I’ve had the option to go somewhere else, to go anywhere else, but I kinda like being an inner city kid.

Yes, it has its downfalls. Even in the nicest of areas you’re sure to pass by a drugged up homeless man or a toothless old woman. You’re friends will know the name of every type of drug regardless they’ve tried it or not and your teachers will almost certainly be from out of state. The kids are certainly rough around the edges, even the academic ones. Oh, and you can bet on never being able to relate to mainstream high school movies.

In my mind, the perks out weigh all this. The perk is that, when you have friends they will almost always stand by you. The perk is that no matter what you have so many people to learn from. The perk is that the outer city is just a few train stops away if you want to explore somewhere new. The perk is that you become more street smart. The perk is that you get to surprise people when they assume you speak in vernacular expression but you actually have an uninhibited range of brilliant dictation.

The perk is that you have a place that you can call home and you can talk to people with open minds.

The greatest perk of all, is that a day never gets dull.

I’m proud to be an inner city kid.

 

Angelina Rosa, Diligently Writing for you, WritingDilegently

To That Shady Girl

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There we stood: Face to face on that date

Ready to launch attack in this debate.

I had my pros while you felt your cons.

We both tied poems to the facts we lit,

And to catch fire to the words you spit,

You pulled from quotes with power but no relevance,

And so I looked poorly towards your deliverance.

You see, from my mouth flows words not stolen from another

And from that alone you should call me mother-

Goose.

For, when its needed, I can catch a rhyme

And call my quote all mine every time.

 

– Angelina Rosa

Diligently Writing for you, WritingDilegently

Running on sad

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It like all these kids decided to stop listening to their minds, stopped searching for their souls, and have a tiredness that sleep can’t shed. I see all these painted smiles and pulled up hoddies. I hear silent calls for attention but no words to call to action. I smell sweat and pot and desperation. I feel the aches, the pains, the wallows and moans. Like they are showing the world that they feel defeated and the world doesn’t know how to get them to start trying.

-Writingdilegently

Meet me

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I want to meet you again in 10 years
When we are older and grown
When our bodys don’t hurt from growing
And we have the freedoms to do
As we will permit ourselves
Maybe I’ll message you first
Or maybe you will
We’ll see each other again
And say hey,
“Did you accomplish all that you’ve whispered to me?”
I want to know who you’ll become
And how you’ll become it.
I’m more interested in future you
Than I am in current you.

~ Writingdilegently

Stay away from me

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I was so rude to you today
I was so out of character
I avoided you while in the sane room as you
Didn’t even say hello to you
But I’m not sorry for it
No
No way and I sorry for that
If you really wanted to speak to me
You could’ve came after me
If you really wanted to see me
You would’ve called after me
Is funny that you got her
But spend so little time with her network
You cut me off
So I’ll cut you off back
Cause they say its all fair
Now that love has turned to war