ColeSaysAlot - Hello Poetry

Like a seedling needs sun, A child needs care. Like a child loves fun, A seedling loves air. What is it that you see In the small unbloomed bud? Do you still believe It can grow in the mud? I don’t really understand, The point you’re trying to make But I just stand, And start to feel the ache My legs will grow weak, And I’ll begin to wonder. I’ll sink down in my seat, But please ignore my blunder. Your seedling grows giant Like the emotions in my chest. I know only how to be defiant, Or how to maybe become depressed Your seedling should be bound to never sprout, To wither and whip in the harsh breeze. Like a teenage boy who knows only how to shout, A child trying only to appease. Should we meet again, Tell me if your bud grew to be impressive. And if I’m to make you feel chest pain, Remember that I have long since grown aggressive. We learn from those who bring us up, So your bud should become gentle And the boy who was beat up Will begin to turn mental. My words will fall hard Upon your fragile mind. I can only ask that you disregard Any words you find unkind. So while your flower receives sun, The boy receives no care. And as the boy comes undone, Your flower enjoys fresh air.

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Feb 5

Feb 5, 2026 at 10:46 AM UTC

Your Flower, My Emotioons

Like a seedling needs sun, A child needs care. Like a child loves fun, A seedling loves air. What is it that you see In the small unbloomed bud? Do you still believe It can grow in the mud? I don’t really understand, The point you’re trying to make But I just stand, And start to feel the ache My legs will grow weak, And I’ll begin to wonder. I’ll sink down in my seat, But please ignore my blunder. Your seedling grows giant Like the emotions in my chest. I know only how to be defiant, Or how to maybe become depressed Your seedling should be bound to never sprout, To wither and whip in the harsh breeze. Like a teenage boy who knows only how to shout, A child trying only to appease. Should we meet again, Tell me if your bud grew to be impressive. And if I’m to make you feel chest pain, Remember that I have long since grown aggressive. We learn from those who bring us up, So your bud should become gentle And the boy who was beat up Will begin to turn mental. My words will fall hard Upon your fragile mind. I can only ask that you disregard Any words you find unkind. So while your flower receives sun, The boy receives no care. And as the boy comes undone, Your flower enjoys fresh air.

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My eyes grow sore, my soul - a mess I get by in life with very little rest. Why am I like this? What is this stain? I've scrubbed the spot but it still causes pain With each breath i take, my ribs push in The internal cage I have about to rupture within. The beating of a bird's wings, A world full of bitter sweet things. All things that keep you awake at night.= Joy and death - fight or flight. A seedling bound to never sprout, A teenage boy who knows only how to shout. He’s immature - too much like a child But when he acts his age you tell him to knock back a mile. “You try too hard to be grown up” But that's because you ask of him way too much. He earns the money that keeps you stable And you stomp on his dreams, leave him unable. Unable to think, dream, or to love You trap him in the hate he can no longer rise above. Has he not given enough to you? What else could he possibly do? He drinks your poison - now by will His bones shake and ache with an eerie chill. “All of it is wrong, everything you are”a Then you try being this teenage boy stuck in tar. He’s tired of it - of you all He has very few who still answer his call I'm not a disappointment And you definitely aren't heaven sent.

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Feb 5

Feb 5, 2026 at 10:42 AM UTC

Heaven sent

My eyes grow sore, my soul - a mess I get by in life with very little rest. Why am I like this? What is this stain? I've scrubbed the spot but it still causes pain With each breath i take, my ribs push in The internal cage I have about to rupture within. The beating of a bird's wings, A world full of bitter sweet things. All things that keep you awake at night.= Joy and death - fight or flight. A seedling bound to never sprout, A teenage boy who knows only how to shout. He’s immature - too much like a child But when he acts his age you tell him to knock back a mile. “You try too hard to be grown up” But that's because you ask of him way too much. He earns the money that keeps you stable And you stomp on his dreams, leave him unable. Unable to think, dream, or to love You trap him in the hate he can no longer rise above. Has he not given enough to you? What else could he possibly do? He drinks your poison - now by will His bones shake and ache with an eerie chill. “All of it is wrong, everything you are”a Then you try being this teenage boy stuck in tar. He’s tired of it - of you all He has very few who still answer his call I'm not a disappointment And you definitely aren't heaven sent.

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The window is open and I’m looking at the wall. Would you look at that? A raven has flown in. “Hello Mister Raven” He is a dark -Yes, very dark- Raven and he is perched on my dresser. And he’s sitting -yes he’s just sitting- and casting his lovely dark shadow. Was that my own name I’ve just heard? “Well Mister Raven? Have you called upon me? Was that you calling my name?” But he doesn't answer, as Expected from a Dark, Sitting, Raven. He just keeps sitting. He is still -like before- still just sitting upon my dresser. But there it is again! I’ve just heard someone call upon me once more during this dark night! “Mister Raven! A mighty, and trustworthy Raven, Holding the Elegance of a dark night, Is that you uttering the letters that make up my Name? The name so very precious to me?” He does not answer, as expected from the Dark, Sitting, Raven that is perched upon my dresser. This bird! - THIS DEMON! It has driven me insane! “WHO?” I yell at the Dark, winged creature, haunting me from its place on my dresser, “WHO IS IT CALLING UPON ME IN SUCH A STILL, QUIET NIGHT?” He makes a noise. A loud, shattered noise. In an instance his wings are beating the air, Propelling him through my very own open window. And just as fast as he had come, He was gone again. Maybe, -Yes, Quite possibly- haunting the dreams of someone else. My dream, Of which was haunted by the horrid bird, Has begun to fade. In the door, - The large, arched door,- stands my beloved, Holding a cup of steaming tea. “Good morning my dear.” she whispers Her voice is like heaven, away from that Raven. “I have been calling upon you” She speaks.

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Feb 5

Feb 5, 2026 at 10:28 AM UTC

The Raven

The window is open and I’m looking at the wall. Would you look at that? A raven has flown in. “Hello Mister Raven” He is a dark -Yes, very dark- Raven and he is perched on my dresser. And he’s sitting -yes he’s just sitting- and casting his lovely dark shadow. Was that my own name I’ve just heard? “Well Mister Raven? Have you called upon me? Was that you calling my name?” But he doesn't answer, as Expected from a Dark, Sitting, Raven. He just keeps sitting. He is still -like before- still just sitting upon my dresser. But there it is again! I’ve just heard someone call upon me once more during this dark night! “Mister Raven! A mighty, and trustworthy Raven, Holding the Elegance of a dark night, Is that you uttering the letters that make up my Name? The name so very precious to me?” He does not answer, as expected from the Dark, Sitting, Raven that is perched upon my dresser. This bird! - THIS DEMON! It has driven me insane! “WHO?” I yell at the Dark, winged creature, haunting me from its place on my dresser, “WHO IS IT CALLING UPON ME IN SUCH A STILL, QUIET NIGHT?” He makes a noise. A loud, shattered noise. In an instance his wings are beating the air, Propelling him through my very own open window. And just as fast as he had come, He was gone again. Maybe, -Yes, Quite possibly- haunting the dreams of someone else. My dream, Of which was haunted by the horrid bird, Has begun to fade. In the door, - The large, arched door,- stands my beloved, Holding a cup of steaming tea. “Good morning my dear.” she whispers Her voice is like heaven, away from that Raven. “I have been calling upon you” She speaks.

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A Blade so similar to the Bow of a violin, Sliding back and forth against my skin. You don’t cut a violins strings, But sometimes it's all too tempting. It’s tempting to watch the strings break, Grow weak and snap under the ache. Do you think violins ever get tired? Maybe the violin can't wait to retire… I’m sure it doesn’t matter to you, not until it’s too late. That violin might have thought being used by you was its only good trait.. Maybe It’s scared of what will happen.. What will happen after it finally taps in… Maybe we’re all scared of what comes after this life. I remember the shake in my hands as I grabbed the knife. I never ACTUALLY wanted to leave, but … I really couldn’t stop after the first cut. So hear the faint tune as I shed my violin tears, The sound will forever stain your ears.

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Feb 5

Feb 5, 2026 at 10:16 AM UTC

Violin Tears

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Is there a beast so great and so mighty, Someone you consider perfect and almighty? Are they a God above or a monster from Hell? Maybe another being who will never tell. Never tell how they came, How they are now the one to blame. You don’t believe me, not now at least, You’ll go with the monster who offers a feast. “A feast and great fortune, it can all be yours! Just walk through those big double doors. The room behind, it holds your prize, I swear, I promise, this is no disguise” You listen to the monster who says these words, But you just wonder if there's seconds, maybe thirds? Why do you listen? It baffles me! It baffles me that you still don’t see. She could be a monster, with large, razor sharp teeth Who shakes the earth with a “BOOM!” every time she speaks. He could be a gentle fellow no bigger than a tree stump, Whose footfalls don’t even make a small little thump... A big slimy creature with purple, greasy hair. It could be anyone, for all you care. So do what you want and walk through that door, And see how your blood will stain the floor. The ground will be slick with the thick red ooze, Those monsters will drink it up like it’s fine wine or ***** I can’t really say that you will be missed. I’ll sit on my bed knowing you pound your fist. You pound your fist against the gates of hell, And now you’re the one who can never tell. Bye bye monster, just keep to yourself. I don’t care who you were, or what you kept on your shelf. Because, look at yourself now, grab a mirror, The person in your reflection will never become clearer. All your unanswered questions and that unheard prayer. All the different things that make you pull out your hair. Goodbye forever, your just a monster now, Just like the ones who lured you out.

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Feb 5

Feb 5, 2026 at 10:13 AM UTC

Monsters

Is there a beast so great and so mighty, Someone you consider perfect and almighty? Are they a God above or a monster from Hell? Maybe another being who will never tell. Never tell how they came, How they are now the one to blame. You don’t believe me, not now at least, You’ll go with the monster who offers a feast. “A feast and great fortune, it can all be yours! Just walk through those big double doors. The room behind, it holds your prize, I swear, I promise, this is no disguise” You listen to the monster who says these words, But you just wonder if there's seconds, maybe thirds? Why do you listen? It baffles me! It baffles me that you still don’t see. She could be a monster, with large, razor sharp teeth Who shakes the earth with a “BOOM!” every time she speaks. He could be a gentle fellow no bigger than a tree stump, Whose footfalls don’t even make a small little thump... A big slimy creature with purple, greasy hair. It could be anyone, for all you care. So do what you want and walk through that door, And see how your blood will stain the floor. The ground will be slick with the thick red ooze, Those monsters will drink it up like it’s fine wine or ***** I can’t really say that you will be missed. I’ll sit on my bed knowing you pound your fist. You pound your fist against the gates of hell, And now you’re the one who can never tell. Bye bye monster, just keep to yourself. I don’t care who you were, or what you kept on your shelf. Because, look at yourself now, grab a mirror, The person in your reflection will never become clearer. All your unanswered questions and that unheard prayer. All the different things that make you pull out your hair. Goodbye forever, your just a monster now, Just like the ones who lured you out.

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