Posted in Poems, thoughts


Thoughts on what is to come

overwhelm  me with fears;

I even forget who I once was

blind to that bitterness, my dull delusions.


There is a cloud called calm

in which I build my strength.

Reclining in the softness of hope,

I hold at heart no doubt

but when my mind grows dim,

I curl in my damp dugout of doubt

–dull delusions stifling my dreams.


I often forget to exist,

thinking about one day being.

I lose focus on the real meaning

and lose myself in the meaning.

I want to pull back the curtain,

the illusion that is defined by breathing:

To get through the pain,

the all consuming pulse of hate,

I remind myself that I am only dreaming

and fleeting.


-Eva M.M.

Throwback to the beginning of my senior year, this is a poem I wrote way back in September.

” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”



I am a young and enthusiastic writer, fresh out of highschool and into college at IUSB. I babysit and work and live life to it's fullest. I write. I read. I do yoga. And plan to become. Yoga intructers as well. I grew up on a farm and can't,t wait to move back to the country in my tiny house I have already planned out. Sometimes I'm a little melodramatic but rarely. I'm a spiritual healer, a hopeless romantic, a book worm, and very nostalgic. Thanks for stopping by.

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