What is poetry?
A form of self expression?
A release to the emotions bearing weight on your soul?
A chance at hope in the most dire of times?
I find myself asking these questions as I stray towards words during my visits to rock bottom. When life has once again wronged me, and these emotions are brewing into an unforgiving storm. There are no expectations here. There is no room for outside judgment. It is just me, a pen, and an empty sheet of paper.
So why is it, that through the thunder of this storm, as the rain pelts me to my core, I find myself met with expectations of my own self expression? Trying to mold these feelings into something presentable, acceptable, beautiful, even.
These emotions know no boundary, they feel no sympathy toward the rules of the world, they only crave release from being locked inside for far too long. They are messy, angry, chaotic, uncomfortable. There is no perfect format to present them in. There is no time to mend them into something pleasing. There is only expression.
Nov 15, 2021
Nov 15, 2021 at 2:51 AM UTC
I give myself,
I give it all.
You never notice,
No one ever does.
It’s like the more I give,
The more you’ll take.
The more I love,
The more you hate.
Feb 10, 2019
Feb 10, 2019 at 4:49 PM UTC
Do you ever find yourself infatiouted with others? Not with their body, but with their minds and their story.
Do you ever wonder how they became their present selves? What shaped their being to it’s current state.
Do you ever find yourself sifting through their thoughts? A desperate attempt to learn more about their desires, hopes and dreams.
Do you ever take a step back, to truly understand the caverns left unexplored in their mind? What broke them? What made them?
In a world that has grown superficial, I’m left in a place of teetering exploration. Traveling through the words spoken and those left within. For I wonder, if I learn to understand those around me, those I care about, maybe that depth will ground us into something meaningful. Something worth fighting for.
May 9, 2018
May 9, 2018 at 12:03 AM UTC
My unknowing heart
Untrusting mind
A future as uncertain as the wind
She speaks too much
I learned too young to never get my hopes up
What will become of me
My tornado of disappointment
It ripped all the flowers from my garden
I need a future as certain as the tides
But I rarely go to the ocean
All the petals that fall from your mouth form a pipe dream
The dead end tunnel I reside in
I built a little garden at my feet
Ill try and use the new petals to build a way out
Dec 2, 2017
Dec 2, 2017 at 3:39 AM UTC
I have a passion to give.
A passion to inflict love onto others.
A passion to become the best.
However, as the time peels by, the passion churns into an obsession. An obligation.
I must help others.
I must love others.
I must be the best.
The time keeps ticking, and even though I’m barely keeping my head above these flood of emotions, I must be this ideal, “passionate” person.
I’m failing.
I can’t keep up.
What have i become? These self-made obligations are killing me.
I’ve become obsessed with giving so much of myself that i didn’t notice i was drowning.
I don’t have the energy to keep going. But i must.
How do you recover from giving so much of yourself, when you have nothing left to give? To others? To myself?
This life of passion has made me hollow and i just want to feel again. No matter the cost, because i must.
Dec 2, 2017
Dec 2, 2017 at 3:06 AM UTC
Hello old friend,
I've missed you.
And the dark blanket you skillfully wrap around me.
I was a fool to think you were in the past.
When in reality I've always been your *****
Always will be.
Until you finally call me home.
Oct 29, 2017
Oct 29, 2017 at 11:01 PM UTC
You played me like a fiddle and while I was lost in the enchanting music being slithered into my ear, you undressed me.
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 1:44 AM UTC
The chaos of the world has drown me.
My hopes.
My values.
My dreams.
And I can only ponder the thought of what could have been.
What I could of been.
The blanket of night brings back the illustrations of my past.
Who I was.
Why did I hate her so much?
Now I envy to be her.
Oct 24, 2017
Oct 24, 2017 at 1:40 AM UTC
There once was a rose, so gallant and proud. With its rosey red color, it brought a new light to the world. Slowly but surely, the rose began to fade. It reached out to the world, offering nothing but shame. Crying for the dreams it once vividly shared, the hopes that fell in red little drops that caused all to stare. What had the rose done, to deserve such a punishment?
Nov 29, 2016
Nov 29, 2016 at 12:43 AM UTC
I don't think you understood what you did to me. Your words consumed me. Abused me. And I broke. Accusation after accusation, name after name. Until I became physically exhausted--the only proof of the shattered fragments my mind had become. I tried to stay strong, I tried to stay happy, I tried to live on. But alas, even the strongest have a breaking point.
Jan 11, 2016
Jan 11, 2016 at 10:14 PM UTC