Sara Stangle Poems

As life goes on and on you realize,
life is like a box of chocolates you take one and eat it but once you swallow you just have the leftover taste.
as life goes on you realize those chocolates need to be savored not just eaten whole and once one is gone you just have the after taste, the memories and once that box is empty you form a new one from hand and learn to savor every last bite.
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I talk too much, I've always been told but they never saw the true reason to try and reach through the silence to the great open doors of possibility, I've never had that my inner child is screaming but they never heard, never reached deep enough to find that child and let it out, spread its wings, and finally talk itself out.
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New ones under your sleeve, they hurt even when touched by a light breeze.
New ones showed up as the others shun.
New ones may approach and pass but these ones are the ones I promised to never open again, I hate promises.
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Oceans and seas to grass and trees how small could I be?

As though feeling tiny in this ginormous world, overloading with a swamp of emotions, it makes me wanna hurl. How small could I be?
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As a child I wished to become ill not because I wanted to die, well that could be partially why, because I wanted to live, thrive but I could never soar like a butterfly I walked like a caterpillar waiting for the Chrisilist stage. I wanted to become ill to get attention the attention any child should be getting but me, no I gave myself the attention, I saved myself I advanced myself from the Chrisilist stage to the beautiful butterfly. As a child I wished to be sick to get attention and that attention should not be earned but given, graciously because they should have shown me the way to become the butterfly, to soar and rise and so shall I.
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Talking talking talking.

Talking talking talking, that's all I hear but never say,
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