Please pick up a feather and write me a letter
Please open your eyes and bring us sunrise
Please do right a wrong and don’t take very long
Please deliver fall and give me a call

Copyright © 2023 Delia Ross /@poeeternal. All rights reserved.

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So this guy turned 12 on Saturday. Mostly a good boy. He hates the neighborhood and I don’t blame him one bit. There’s nothing to like. We wanna move. He’s trying to make it to 13. And despite the ups and downs, I didn’t give up on him. Tribulations.

I contacted my mom on my birthday. She was happy to hear from me. She said she loved me but I never said it back.

Just wanted her to know I made it to 45.

She also kept bringing up my sister who died and I also never responded about her.

She wants to see me so I might be getting a visitor this year.

Maybe.

P.S. I’m obsessed with Pinko blazers and clothing and getting a new wardrobe. Never wore a blazer in my life and now I got a weeks worth. Even got a Beetlejuice looking one. Cuz.

I may or may not share my new wardrobe at some point. Doing it for me and no one else. Not dressing for views. But it kills the blues (shopping).

People want me posting more but it’s so much work and I can’t break 300 views.

I think I’m just exhausted in all areas of life and would rather sit outside. It’s hard for me to connect.

I’m literally dead inside.

No empathy, no sympathy.

Pissed off at the world.

Just talk to God mostly. Cry. Pray. Regret. And then practice gratitude.

I am grateful for my closet.

For owning clothing I wanna wear.

But I don’t wanna go anywhere.

Time to just be dressy cuz.

“What’s the occasion?”

“We’re in hell and I’m alive….”

Can’t take nothing with me to heaven.

Would be 10x happier if I moved somewhere the mold wasn’t killing me.

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