Angela Teague
I write all the time. Poetry, stories, books, and music lyrics. Writing is a way of life, and I always will write.
Hope in yourself, breathe in your dreams.
You call me a name...it slides right off. I'm used to it. The sting is no longer new. You're not a good example. Wouldn't you want to be someone's friend? First, you got to let go of the tough exte...
{I'm typing directly on the app right now, and am going to assemble some random thoughts. We will see what develops.}
The insults, they fly, like rain falls steadily from the sky.
Being bullied isn't fun, nor is it necessary. I know I'm not the only one, that feels this way. It's not only me, that's been called names, or hit or beat up. But them bullies need to know, we've h...
What is important? Right at this moment? It is clear: my health.
Cloudy days, are following me. But I'm now in some bright, sunny rays, exactly who I'm supposed to be.
Grace be with you From God, The Father. I hope peace and prosperity hold you always. May each breath be filled with purpose, and may each journey of yours be meaningful. May you learn something at ...
When you look for me...if you look, behold me right beside you.
As the water cascades down, and falls to the river below, it can be silent, then stop, or it can be loud and echo.
You'd like to see the light leave my eyes. Come around with your obvious disguise. Won't work. I see through it.
What is the meaning of hope? What drives a person to keep going when there's a chance they could fail? That is something that shouldn't stop someone from trying to succeed at their goals, and makin...
(So, this is me talking to myself about being stronger, in the form of lyrics.)
What is a word? You can break it down, define it, combine it with others, and make a sentence, a paragraph, a page of syllables and sounds. What happens when you run out of thoughts? There are no m...
Dreamweaver, calling out to a heart. Some images you sew-in doth tear this soul apart.
I watched as they brought crate after crate inside, filled with what, I did not know.
Gray pastures...the once green grass, has, over an unknown amount of time, died. Ashen trees, with not a leaf in sight to adorn their branches. Perhaps they've all blown away. Empty nests, where th...
The quiet, but harsh sound of a distant breath. I can sense the way it's getting closer. The inevitable shriek in the night is a dead giveaway. A howl pierces the once-comforting silence.