Once it was a place of sorrow
where bathing came from hot tears
warmth barely came from Tomorrow
little thought was give to more years
Where eating was swallowing a truth
that was just sawdust coated in lies
Mirrors simply reflected angry youth
all seen through drug clouded eyes
Upon a bed of razor sharp intentions
She painted a heart upon her chest
from the blood that flowed in rivulets
in the indentations of her weakness
She sighed that she did her best
She found herself upon silvery shores
under an incandescent Sun
hoping that she had evaded the laws
condemning her for what she had done
Head thrown back in a field of dreams
Serenity in her tumultuous gaze
Lips curved gently against the screams
so much clarity in a languid daze
She gently caressed coloured flowers
with hands that had never sought to protect
from the constantly brutal storm showers
that raged when she failed to connect
Where once there was only rain
all she could now feel was dry
Where once she was warped by pain
utter tranquility she could not deny
She rebuilt herself in a different place
in a skin that was as hardened as stone
Where her demons could find no trace
far away from all she had known
A poem, that's not a poem
but gets 2 thousands reads
lands on the Daily
and makes my heart bleed
So much fighting, back biting,
such inverted sense
of there own
Drowning out the artful voices
of the souls that bleed
Sitting in their towers
built from dung
measuring how meanly
they are hung
while many other voices
chime in and you can't hear the truth
crowing inside the din
it's like an ache in a tooth!
Some truly beautiful poems
that will hold your heart,
most bearing their souls
and simply enjoying the art!
Connecting on a level
that cares little for 'hearts'
just waiting for someone to say
'Hi, I feel what you wrote'
Not caring about figures, or charts
Be you one voice under one name
or one voice under many
If one is a vitriolic persona
rest assured the others are just as ugly
I'd have to give HP
a 2/10 this week
Sadly it's impossible to articulate
while being drowned when trying to speak.
When I gave up, I pretty much just stopped, like two feet firmly planted into quicksand. I just stopped.
When I could no longer take a step, I just let my arms fall down to my side, fingers spread and just sighed.
Chin tucked to my chest, an even breath, then a scream that only echoed on the inside.
When I stopped screaming, I was still sinking and the crushing absence of movement made me bold. I struggled and I flailed but to no avail did I become free from the quicksands hold.
Within reach of my fingertips was a ghostly branch, from a tree that had weathered sicknesses untold. But still that tree reached out for me and as I took hold of it's ghastly brittle fingers, and even now in my mind it lingers, I took that tree out by the roots to sink in cahoots beside me, lingering in this quicksand.
I immediately apologised profusely to the tree that now sinks beside me.
The tree answered back, no, please it was I that lacked the fortitude to save thee.
Oh no! I thought, it was my troubled mind that led me to sink so deep, it was me who should weep quicksand tears for the tree who fell for me so blindly!
So me, and the tree, used each other, you see, one to stay afloat and the other to lay down finally,
to hold another up kindly.
Stop wishing away the lines on your face.
Every line means you smiled!
Stop wishing away your stretch marks.
For every one of them there is a grateful child.
Stop wishing away those extra pounds.
It means you have food to eat.
Stop wishing away your corns and bunions.
It means you have shoes to put upon your feet.
Stop wishing away your grey hair!
It means you've had many years to enjoy life.
Stop wishing away imperfections,
perceived by others lies.
There is someone out there
who sees you
as perfect in their eyes!
Badges of Courage!
Stop wishing them away.