ThearaSteglaidias - Hello Poetry

Life isnt measured by likes on a post, Or followers, friends, or tweets. Life can't be counted by people we meet Or losses we face. Life doesnt keep a tally sheet Marking down our scores. Life isn't measured by the breaths we take But it isn't counted by the moments that take our breath away, either Life can't be drawn out for us, and counted on a graph It can't be explained or sectioned off into days, months or years We carve our own paths, and we don't need to count the steps Because wether you use 0 or 26 letters, Wether your heart beats 2 or 200 times We are not numbers, we cannot be counted. We are so much more.

0

Jan 6, 2016

Jan 6, 2016 at 12:54 AM UTC

Life is not a number

Life isnt measured by likes on a post, Or followers, friends, or tweets. Life can't be counted by people we meet Or losses we face. Life doesnt keep a tally sheet Marking down our scores. Life isn't measured by the breaths we take But it isn't counted by the moments that take our breath away, either Life can't be drawn out for us, and counted on a graph It can't be explained or sectioned off into days, months or years We carve our own paths, and we don't need to count the steps Because wether you use 0 or 26 letters, Wether your heart beats 2 or 200 times We are not numbers, we cannot be counted. We are so much more.

14

Whitch hazel. The perfect flower. Spiky and uneven Bright and bold All others bloom in summer, let little girls have their fun with them Witch hazel blooms in the dead of winter, when the cold becomes to much and all else fails. It pokes it's head above the snow. It tells the world I WILL NOT DIE! Witch hazel the beauty born in the pain.

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Jan 6, 2016

Jan 6, 2016 at 12:25 AM UTC

Winters beauty

Whitch hazel. The perfect flower. Spiky and uneven Bright and bold All others bloom in summer, let little girls have their fun with them Witch hazel blooms in the dead of winter, when the cold becomes to much and all else fails. It pokes it's head above the snow. It tells the world I WILL NOT DIE! Witch hazel the beauty born in the pain.

7

I am not a tiger, a vampire, or a ghost. I cannot attack them straight on with my ferocious strength. I cannot watch them bleed from my claws. I cannot lure them with beauty and perfection, lulling them in with a smile, snapping necks with bare hands. I cannot sneak up on the shadows gliding soundlessly until I strike. A whisper, a warning, wherever I go. But I can sew together my seams and glue the cracks together. I can fold down the edges and become a gentle circle. I can smile just the right amount to be a gentle, innocent flower, a master of deception. I am a Venus flytrap. An unknowing flower, not as pretty as the rest, but soft and gentle, a perfect place to rest Until I close my gapping mouth around you trapping you inside, Eating you piece by piece until the pain destroys you from inside.

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Jan 6, 2016

Jan 6, 2016 at 12:24 AM UTC

Untitled

I am not a tiger, a vampire, or a ghost. I cannot attack them straight on with my ferocious strength. I cannot watch them bleed from my claws. I cannot lure them with beauty and perfection, lulling them in with a smile, snapping necks with bare hands. I cannot sneak up on the shadows gliding soundlessly until I strike. A whisper, a warning, wherever I go. But I can sew together my seams and glue the cracks together. I can fold down the edges and become a gentle circle. I can smile just the right amount to be a gentle, innocent flower, a master of deception. I am a Venus flytrap. An unknowing flower, not as pretty as the rest, but soft and gentle, a perfect place to rest Until I close my gapping mouth around you trapping you inside, Eating you piece by piece until the pain destroys you from inside.

10

Life is full of perfect metaphors And irony hidden in secret ways Carefully caressing things In secret or on silver trays It's in all those unplanned moments When we cease to think And in the thoughtful gestures too That let the emotions sink It's in the way we curl up in bed With a book in the bright of day The way a torn feather falls, oh so slowly away. It's in the way we shrink in terror from the darks evil face Yet refuse to sleep until wrapped up by its safe embrace It's in the way we see the world Yet refuse to open our eyes Only staring at the ground Yet seeing only skies And that's what makes our planet such a magical place, where emotions of love and fear carefully match pace.

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Apr 26, 2015

Apr 26, 2015 at 2:43 AM UTC

Hidden Measages

Life is full of perfect metaphors And irony hidden in secret ways Carefully caressing things In secret or on silver trays It's in all those unplanned moments When we cease to think And in the thoughtful gestures too That let the emotions sink It's in the way we curl up in bed With a book in the bright of day The way a torn feather falls, oh so slowly away. It's in the way we shrink in terror from the darks evil face Yet refuse to sleep until wrapped up by its safe embrace It's in the way we see the world Yet refuse to open our eyes Only staring at the ground Yet seeing only skies And that's what makes our planet such a magical place, where emotions of love and fear carefully match pace.

18

I thought we were so similar but now I see the difference You want peace and friendship While I want nothing You constantly make attempts To rebuild a scrap of friendship from the fragile bond I set a flame To re kindle a candle but hide it from inferno To delete the awkwardness and hit undo to before But I don't care And that's what scares me I thought I almost loved you But like that I'm ready to go I want to move on To hop in a car and drive away from the dust that's choking me Despite our bond the fire is done and I don't need to clean the ashes because the bond was severed and the scraps of love burned too. I thought we could be sisters The others called you that To me you were still a friend But perhaps you were more than that But with your double edged sword you stabbed our strings And cut out our hearts The others will still talk to you Worry and cry Still save you from danger Because you are thise sister But to me you are gone An empty shell And any love I felt dissipated into the air To see you killed and walk away Would no longer phase me All I think of you is hate No r eminence of emotion I thought you were a friend We were never sisters But you were always there for me Someone to talk to about the light things I couldnt discuss the pain but at least your voice could lift my hidden sorrow But then I was ripped away Pulled from you and my sisters But somehow I forgot To miss you too much I lived my life Forgot to call Simply acted as though You didn't exist at all What ever love I felt for you I learned to live without And simply forgot About the emotion I used to feel When our times were more real.

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Feb 28, 2015

Feb 28, 2015 at 1:49 AM UTC

Emotional Detachment

I thought we were so similar but now I see the difference You want peace and friendship While I want nothing You constantly make attempts To rebuild a scrap of friendship from the fragile bond I set a flame To re kindle a candle but hide it from inferno To delete the awkwardness and hit undo to before But I don't care And that's what scares me I thought I almost loved you But like that I'm ready to go I want to move on To hop in a car and drive away from the dust that's choking me Despite our bond the fire is done and I don't need to clean the ashes because the bond was severed and the scraps of love burned too. I thought we could be sisters The others called you that To me you were still a friend But perhaps you were more than that But with your double edged sword you stabbed our strings And cut out our hearts The others will still talk to you Worry and cry Still save you from danger Because you are thise sister But to me you are gone An empty shell And any love I felt dissipated into the air To see you killed and walk away Would no longer phase me All I think of you is hate No r eminence of emotion I thought you were a friend We were never sisters But you were always there for me Someone to talk to about the light things I couldnt discuss the pain but at least your voice could lift my hidden sorrow But then I was ripped away Pulled from you and my sisters But somehow I forgot To miss you too much I lived my life Forgot to call Simply acted as though You didn't exist at all What ever love I felt for you I learned to live without And simply forgot About the emotion I used to feel When our times were more real.

49

I CAN'T THINK OF ANYTHING TO WRITE!! SQUID!

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Feb 25, 2015

Feb 25, 2015 at 12:31 PM UTC

Spontaneous Thoughts (series)

I CAN'T THINK OF ANYTHING TO WRITE!! SQUID!

2

You lull me into security And offer to be my friend You tare away what little Pieces of love are left and Feed them to my brother Untill I can't take it And accept our transformation I thought it was for the better To be treated like an adult But I didn't realize That your tiny share of like I can't even call it love Came with strings attached You would treat me like a friend Talk with words not melodies if.. You could remind me you were my mother any time we fought If you could blackmail me with things I want to do And order me around like a king when you are mad To talk about me behind doors in hushed voices And discuss my stupidity, Uglyness and horridity If you could spread rumors and tell people you think I'm anorexic and fat at the same time But all the while tell me to my face that none of that is true, that we are friends and that I could tell you anything While now the shrade is up I've scratched the cards And removed the grime And I don't like what I see But at least it's not a lie to me. The truth and honesty being pain But not as much As the realization that we will never be the same You took your love and gave me something fake But now I've broken down the crude cardboard sign and I won't fall for it again. Because now I know What paper hearts look like.

0

Feb 17, 2015

Feb 17, 2015 at 12:30 AM UTC

Your Conditions ****

You lull me into security And offer to be my friend You tare away what little Pieces of love are left and Feed them to my brother Untill I can't take it And accept our transformation I thought it was for the better To be treated like an adult But I didn't realize That your tiny share of like I can't even call it love Came with strings attached You would treat me like a friend Talk with words not melodies if.. You could remind me you were my mother any time we fought If you could blackmail me with things I want to do And order me around like a king when you are mad To talk about me behind doors in hushed voices And discuss my stupidity, Uglyness and horridity If you could spread rumors and tell people you think I'm anorexic and fat at the same time But all the while tell me to my face that none of that is true, that we are friends and that I could tell you anything While now the shrade is up I've scratched the cards And removed the grime And I don't like what I see But at least it's not a lie to me. The truth and honesty being pain But not as much As the realization that we will never be the same You took your love and gave me something fake But now I've broken down the crude cardboard sign and I won't fall for it again. Because now I know What paper hearts look like.

34

0:00 I fly through the front doors racing upstairs like hunted prey praying she didn't see me 1:00 I tear open the make remover and feverishly rip off the overpowering jet black eyeliner 2:00 I steal a glance in the bedroom mirror and throw on a hoodie over my black shirt quickly swapping out the black pants for jeans in a crude attempt to look normal 3:00 I hear her steps ringing off the stairs as my heart beats sounding together like a drum kit I pull off my spiked black bracelets and trinkets hands shaking palms sweating as I hide them away 4:00 I feel the door opening before it does and hope i covered up the look, the spikes hidden the eyeliner gone i glance in the mirror and see a pale empty girl looking back terrified of being caught 5:00 she asks how my day was while casually looking around the room her ever seeing eyes falling on my undoing my small black spiked gothic bracelet hanging off the desk sticking out like a sore thumb 6:00 she asks what it is and looks at me questioningly talking about how she deposes the style hates the look as I fumble for an excuse of the unusual possession 7:00 I lie, its easy now i do it all the time. But this was different. I tell her that its a stupid birthday gift a throwaway I keep because friends like to see me wear what they bought but as I utter the words I feel like Im stabbing my soul twisting a knife calling a part of my identity garbage telling myself that part of myself is simply a throw away and despite the fact that I use a fake knife The sting still feels real because I know that part of what I say is true

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Feb 16, 2015

Feb 16, 2015 at 2:10 AM UTC

7 Minutes That Stabbed My Soul

0:00 I fly through the front doors racing upstairs like hunted prey praying she didn't see me 1:00 I tear open the make remover and feverishly rip off the overpowering jet black eyeliner 2:00 I steal a glance in the bedroom mirror and throw on a hoodie over my black shirt quickly swapping out the black pants for jeans in a crude attempt to look normal 3:00 I hear her steps ringing off the stairs as my heart beats sounding together like a drum kit I pull off my spiked black bracelets and trinkets hands shaking palms sweating as I hide them away 4:00 I feel the door opening before it does and hope i covered up the look, the spikes hidden the eyeliner gone i glance in the mirror and see a pale empty girl looking back terrified of being caught 5:00 she asks how my day was while casually looking around the room her ever seeing eyes falling on my undoing my small black spiked gothic bracelet hanging off the desk sticking out like a sore thumb 6:00 she asks what it is and looks at me questioningly talking about how she deposes the style hates the look as I fumble for an excuse of the unusual possession 7:00 I lie, its easy now i do it all the time. But this was different. I tell her that its a stupid birthday gift a throwaway I keep because friends like to see me wear what they bought but as I utter the words I feel like Im stabbing my soul twisting a knife calling a part of my identity garbage telling myself that part of myself is simply a throw away and despite the fact that I use a fake knife The sting still feels real because I know that part of what I say is true

55

Depression is a feeling an emptiness a loneliness an extreme sadness It is an emotion filled with dread a sense of living dead not an illness in your head When a child comes home crying sad eyes with tears do you offer them pills and cures teaching them that sadness is a mental disability? No, you welcome them you wipe away the tears and wrap them in a warm hug telling them to let it out that its okay to cry Why must we treat depression so different Depression is a feeling a thousand times more intense than sadness so we need the cure a thousand times over People need hope and happiness hugs and warm kisses jokes and support family and friends We need to stop theaching people that it is wrong to feel that emotions that strong are frowned upon something you must drown in drugs and supperess to be accepted by society because depression is not a mental illness depression is a feeling an emotion that needs human support and happiness not synthetic chemicals and the segregation that comes with being "disabled" when someone is happy, we see them as happy as laugh and smile along when someone is sad we see them as sad and try to cheer them up when someone is depressed we cast them aside, title them as broken ask them to take pills to be happy and lose the reminder of what really matters throwing the people further into societies forbidden emotion

0

Feb 16, 2015

Feb 16, 2015 at 1:52 AM UTC

Depression Is Not An Illness

Depression is a feeling an emptiness a loneliness an extreme sadness It is an emotion filled with dread a sense of living dead not an illness in your head When a child comes home crying sad eyes with tears do you offer them pills and cures teaching them that sadness is a mental disability? No, you welcome them you wipe away the tears and wrap them in a warm hug telling them to let it out that its okay to cry Why must we treat depression so different Depression is a feeling a thousand times more intense than sadness so we need the cure a thousand times over People need hope and happiness hugs and warm kisses jokes and support family and friends We need to stop theaching people that it is wrong to feel that emotions that strong are frowned upon something you must drown in drugs and supperess to be accepted by society because depression is not a mental illness depression is a feeling an emotion that needs human support and happiness not synthetic chemicals and the segregation that comes with being "disabled" when someone is happy, we see them as happy as laugh and smile along when someone is sad we see them as sad and try to cheer them up when someone is depressed we cast them aside, title them as broken ask them to take pills to be happy and lose the reminder of what really matters throwing the people further into societies forbidden emotion

48

I feel like you're slipping through my open fingers, our relationship falling like a handful of sand and no matter how fast or hard I clench my fist you find the little cracks to fall through They say that when kids reach late teens, they fight, and grow distant, they grow to resent their parents and relationships fail, but I feel like I'm something new, our relationship isn't disappearing, you aren't fading into the distance, instead you are transforming into something new and I'm no longer your little girl. Early today we went to the mall, and as we sat and ate lunch you said the strangest thing. You started talking about your job and about your feelings, treating me like an adult at last. The way I had always wanted you to talk to me my whole life. Like I was a friend and you could confide in me, because I still can't talk to you about the devastation I've encountered, but you finally understand that though I am still small my eyes hold wisdom and the gibberish you think I hear, comes like a melody in comprehensible packages. The codes you have come untangled to my ears, because I too have experienced your codes. As a little girl I waited begging into my pillow that you would treat me this way, that you would talk to me like a friend. But the other day you did, and something was missing. I missed the way that you used to talk to me with your eyes shining carefully watching your words. The way that you would censer your topics as if I didn't understand the truth. And now that you do this, that you talk to me like a new found friend you met at work, I miss being your little girl. I see the shinning eyes as your talk to my younger brother, and I miss the days you looked at me with that little kid look. Because now you see me with eyes of an equal, because I'm not your little girl anymore, because our mother daughter relationship has slipped through my fingers and the love you showed like chocolate kissing placed on the pillow of your every action, have been given to another and now my mother is slipping away.

0

Feb 16, 2015

Feb 16, 2015 at 12:15 AM UTC

Slipping Through My Fingers

I feel like you're slipping through my open fingers, our relationship falling like a handful of sand and no matter how fast or hard I clench my fist you find the little cracks to fall through They say that when kids reach late teens, they fight, and grow distant, they grow to resent their parents and relationships fail, but I feel like I'm something new, our relationship isn't disappearing, you aren't fading into the distance, instead you are transforming into something new and I'm no longer your little girl. Early today we went to the mall, and as we sat and ate lunch you said the strangest thing. You started talking about your job and about your feelings, treating me like an adult at last. The way I had always wanted you to talk to me my whole life. Like I was a friend and you could confide in me, because I still can't talk to you about the devastation I've encountered, but you finally understand that though I am still small my eyes hold wisdom and the gibberish you think I hear, comes like a melody in comprehensible packages. The codes you have come untangled to my ears, because I too have experienced your codes. As a little girl I waited begging into my pillow that you would treat me this way, that you would talk to me like a friend. But the other day you did, and something was missing. I missed the way that you used to talk to me with your eyes shining carefully watching your words. The way that you would censer your topics as if I didn't understand the truth. And now that you do this, that you talk to me like a new found friend you met at work, I miss being your little girl. I see the shinning eyes as your talk to my younger brother, and I miss the days you looked at me with that little kid look. Because now you see me with eyes of an equal, because I'm not your little girl anymore, because our mother daughter relationship has slipped through my fingers and the love you showed like chocolate kissing placed on the pillow of your every action, have been given to another and now my mother is slipping away.

5