Lia_7875 - Hello Poetry

The gravity feels different now than it did when I was ten. The weight of expectations I carry is heavy, Pressing down on me and adding pounds to my shoulders, Dragging me down with every step I take. I’ve learned to bear it all without falling, But when I’m alone in my room, I allow the weight to drop, Like a thousand tears streaming down my face. It's a relief I can hold onto only for the night, Before I put it all back on in the morning. Sometimes, though, the expectations become too much. Tears don’t solve it; actions do.

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Mar 14

Mar 14, 2026 at 8:02 PM UTC

Lia_7875

The Entropy of Growing Up

The gravity feels different now than it did when I was ten. The weight of expectations I carry is heavy, Pressing down on me and adding pounds to my shoulders, Dragging me down with every step I take. I’ve learned to bear it all without falling, But when I’m alone in my room, I allow the weight to drop, Like a thousand tears streaming down my face. It's a relief I can hold onto only for the night, Before I put it all back on in the morning. Sometimes, though, the expectations become too much. Tears don’t solve it; actions do.

11

Silence isn’t empty; It is a heavy velvet curtain pulled across the throat. When no words are said, it feels like someone is yelling, The last words lingering in the air, something left unsaid. It’s something that's here, but it's not. Its blackness is choking the air. It makes it hard to breathe. When we breathe in, it always seems to turn into a sigh. Then you know it’s about to come, the word that breaks the silence. In those few seconds, an eternity has passed.

0

Mar 14

Mar 14, 2026 at 7:59 PM UTC

Lia_7875

The Sound of Silence

Silence isn’t empty; It is a heavy velvet curtain pulled across the throat. When no words are said, it feels like someone is yelling, The last words lingering in the air, something left unsaid. It’s something that's here, but it's not. Its blackness is choking the air. It makes it hard to breathe. When we breathe in, it always seems to turn into a sigh. Then you know it’s about to come, the word that breaks the silence. In those few seconds, an eternity has passed.

8

I have carried the weight of your shadow since you were small enough to fit in it. You watched me grow as I witnessed your tarnishing. You are like me because you have cracks. We didn’t always have them; they developed over time. Like a flower that blooms only to wither in winter, We, unlike the flower, do not change when spring arrives. Instead, we remain stuck in the hole we fell into. You are the non-living consciousness of myself, still broken and still trying. You know things that others don’t. We have been together for as long as I can remember, You understand my phases, the good and the bad. I love you because we hold secrets that the world will never know.

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Mar 13

Mar 13, 2026 at 8:25 PM UTC

Lia_7875

The Garden of Cracks

I have carried the weight of your shadow since you were small enough to fit in it. You watched me grow as I witnessed your tarnishing. You are like me because you have cracks. We didn’t always have them; they developed over time. Like a flower that blooms only to wither in winter, We, unlike the flower, do not change when spring arrives. Instead, we remain stuck in the hole we fell into. You are the non-living consciousness of myself, still broken and still trying. You know things that others don’t. We have been together for as long as I can remember, You understand my phases, the good and the bad. I love you because we hold secrets that the world will never know.

13

In the quiet of a long afternoon, Time drifts slowly, like dust in the air, My coffee’s gone cold, it's heat gone without a care, And my phone buzzes, interrupting nothing, Outside the window, laughter flashes past, But inside, the room forgets how to echo, No storms here, just a stillness that lasts, A pause where every sound feels shallow, No heartbreak, no nights split open by fear, Just the weight of existing too carefully, A gray that settles without appearing severe, Thoughts loosen their grip unevenly, Nothing’s quite wrong, but it’s not really right, The day keeps breathing without me inside it, A small hope flickers, then slips out of sight, I stay where the music never quite started.

0

Mar 13

Mar 13, 2026 at 8:22 PM UTC

Lia_7875

Melancholy in the Quiet Hours

In the quiet of a long afternoon, Time drifts slowly, like dust in the air, My coffee’s gone cold, it's heat gone without a care, And my phone buzzes, interrupting nothing, Outside the window, laughter flashes past, But inside, the room forgets how to echo, No storms here, just a stillness that lasts, A pause where every sound feels shallow, No heartbreak, no nights split open by fear, Just the weight of existing too carefully, A gray that settles without appearing severe, Thoughts loosen their grip unevenly, Nothing’s quite wrong, but it’s not really right, The day keeps breathing without me inside it, A small hope flickers, then slips out of sight, I stay where the music never quite started.

16