Brayden R. Kennedy Poems

The old woman sat alone in her ancient chair,
Gently rocking with the breeze.
Her mind elsewhere in a distant time.
A time when the demons of age were unbeknownst to her.
...

I write these words, unsure of how they'll be received.
These words are my confession.
I cannot hide the truth any more.
My foolish heart bursts with fear and doubt.
...

What is beauty in a sense?
Who can declare the standards of beauty?
Is it universal?
Or is it exclusive to a personal point of view?
...

There are many questions we are born to ask.
Is our life our life to live?
What does it mean to live in the first place?
Why are we deserving to be on God's Earth?
...

I have hid behind a wall of anonymity
I shall hide behind no more.
I have told you sweet nothings
Without taking any credit.
...

To have seen her ebony skin,
Would be a treat for the purest of men.
With eyes of night,
And hair of dark,
...

O demons of my mind,
I write to thank thee.
For tho thy might hurt me
And tho you may force my poor soul confined,
...

I sit here on my broken throne of ash
I think of all my egregious sins.
All the times I was too brash.
...

When was the last time you went outside?
When was the last time you saw your friends,
Your family?
When was the last time you called them
...