Samiha Issacs

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Dark clouds, soft mist. Easy breeze, light drizzle. Sun peaks through endless

trees beyond sight. The feel of soft grass between toes. The light smell of rain
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Paranormal infants ride amongst daze and fury in a motion of a swing set…
I see them wondering in fear.
They see me, traced in hallucination of the unknown eyes deceiving me.
They lurk within my derived stance of fright, dancing along the humble trees of vain.
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My words are lost in trance,
Never again to be redeemed,
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Writing portrays itself over a mere thought or spark of imagination. A fast pass

to an entire world of being. A simple thought; one word; can create an entire
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As I sit blankly in class glaring amongst the rows and seats in front of me,
the teacher blabbing pointless continuations of words, I can only think of
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Dark clouds, soft mist. Easy breeze, light drizzle. Sun peaks through endless
trees beyond sight. The feel of soft grass between toes. The light smell of rain
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My heart cried out in stubborn infatuation,
Lust surrounded my inpatient mind.
I wanted him near me,
Can I ever be free?
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