Wrapped around the hopes and dreams.

Wallowing words, but make no promises.

What it means, only God knows.

Where it’s going or How it’s going?

Who knows? Who can tell? But they fell.

When it’s complicated, nothing makes sense.

Walkways leading to a past tense.

Waitlisted, freaking priceless.

Waisting the ability to ask for more, accept less.

The warmness of the moment. Who left that door open?

Warriors of the strongest passion, someone has to lose.

Wrestle with the idea, create new conceptions.

Watching out for the next time to catch the train.

Water pouring, but there is no rain.

Who said a little bad can’t make you sane?

-M.A. Fernández

© 2015 Marlin Alicea Fernández, Soul to Ink. All Rights Reserved