alliyah - Hello Poetry

i'm gonna start writing soon, i'm just gathering some more inspiration. hope you guys understand. love you, **

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Apr 22, 2019

Apr 22, 2019 at 6:49 AM UTC

soon

i'm gonna start writing soon, i'm just gathering some more inspiration. hope you guys understand. love you, **

1

hi, hello, what's up people. i'm back. i missed you all.

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Feb 19, 2019

Feb 19, 2019 at 8:25 AM UTC

i'm back

hi, hello, what's up people. i'm back. i missed you all.

4

Eyes are the mirror of the soul, but, what if my soul is dead? Unable to stand and reach the mirror. My eyes doesn't reflect anything anymore. The sparks, happiness and life are all gone. There's nothing left in me, oh wait, there are something left; emptiness, darkness, and sadness. How nice.

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Jan 5, 2019

Jan 5, 2019 at 7:56 AM UTC

Soulless Eyes

Eyes are the mirror of the soul, but, what if my soul is dead? Unable to stand and reach the mirror. My eyes doesn't reflect anything anymore. The sparks, happiness and life are all gone. There's nothing left in me, oh wait, there are something left; emptiness, darkness, and sadness. How nice.

14

I can't feel anything. Terrible things are happening but I can't feel anything. No pain, no sadness, no happiness. I'm just there staring blankly. Feeling my numbness. I'm smiling but it's just a ****** movement. No emotion, just a blank smile. No tears came out from my eyes. I don't know. I need to find a way to get rid of this numbness. I looked around and found a sharp blade. I slowly looked at my wrist and said, 'Maybe this is the way.' I slitted my wrist, cutting in my skin, my flesh, my veins. In a split seconds a gush of fresh blood came out from my wrist. A stream of tears fall from my eyes. 'I succeed, i'm not numb anymore.' I said to myself. Slowly I close my eyes, and darkness enveloped me. 'I'm gonna rest now.' I said then gasp my last breath.

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Jan 4, 2019

Jan 4, 2019 at 11:16 PM UTC

Numb

I can't feel anything. Terrible things are happening but I can't feel anything. No pain, no sadness, no happiness. I'm just there staring blankly. Feeling my numbness. I'm smiling but it's just a ****** movement. No emotion, just a blank smile. No tears came out from my eyes. I don't know. I need to find a way to get rid of this numbness. I looked around and found a sharp blade. I slowly looked at my wrist and said, 'Maybe this is the way.' I slitted my wrist, cutting in my skin, my flesh, my veins. In a split seconds a gush of fresh blood came out from my wrist. A stream of tears fall from my eyes. 'I succeed, i'm not numb anymore.' I said to myself. Slowly I close my eyes, and darkness enveloped me. 'I'm gonna rest now.' I said then gasp my last breath.

29

Let me walk you through inside a writer's mind. Aren't you curious? How can someone write like that? How can someone have those sick emotions? How can someone be so dramatic? How can someone be that suicidal? How can someone be so sad? You know what? Being able to write about those things is a privilege. If I have no one to talk to, if I have no one to vent all my sentiments, poems are going to slap me with a pen and a paper. And i'm all good. Once i've let go of that burning pen, the moment I read what I wrote into that ****** paper. My diaphragm finally relaxed, I can finally breathe. And when a writer doesn't have any inspiration, that soul must do all thy take to feel everything and anything in order to fill those pages, those ****** pages. You must value every word you read inside a poem or any kind of literature. Because you didn't know what emotional ride that living flesh took just to serve you those burning hot raw words. But aren't you curious? Don't you want to know what it took? What it took to serve those emotions to you? A writer... Scream, screamed like a mad sicko. A writer... Cry, cried like a new born baby. A writer... Laugh, laughed like there's no tomorrow. A writer... Burn, burned in their own oil. A writer... Slit, slitted thy skin and... A writer... Cut, cutted thy flesh and... A writer... Bleed, bleed until there's no more left. Bleed until that living soul can write something. A writer... Is empty. A writer... Is a lost soul who can't find it's way back. A writer... Is dead... inside. Then, viola! A burning hot literature is served. And that, my friend, is what inside a writer's mind.

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Dec 29, 2018

Dec 29, 2018 at 12:42 PM UTC

Inside A Writer's Mind

Let me walk you through inside a writer's mind. Aren't you curious? How can someone write like that? How can someone have those sick emotions? How can someone be so dramatic? How can someone be that suicidal? How can someone be so sad? You know what? Being able to write about those things is a privilege. If I have no one to talk to, if I have no one to vent all my sentiments, poems are going to slap me with a pen and a paper. And i'm all good. Once i've let go of that burning pen, the moment I read what I wrote into that ****** paper. My diaphragm finally relaxed, I can finally breathe. And when a writer doesn't have any inspiration, that soul must do all thy take to feel everything and anything in order to fill those pages, those ****** pages. You must value every word you read inside a poem or any kind of literature. Because you didn't know what emotional ride that living flesh took just to serve you those burning hot raw words. But aren't you curious? Don't you want to know what it took? What it took to serve those emotions to you? A writer... Scream, screamed like a mad sicko. A writer... Cry, cried like a new born baby. A writer... Laugh, laughed like there's no tomorrow. A writer... Burn, burned in their own oil. A writer... Slit, slitted thy skin and... A writer... Cut, cutted thy flesh and... A writer... Bleed, bleed until there's no more left. Bleed until that living soul can write something. A writer... Is empty. A writer... Is a lost soul who can't find it's way back. A writer... Is dead... inside. Then, viola! A burning hot literature is served. And that, my friend, is what inside a writer's mind.

48

Before, i love writing bright poems. Poems about nature, poems about how nature resonates heaven. Poems about how smile and laughter can light up the whole world. Poems about dreams, dreams that became fantasies. Poems that are filled with happiness and rainbows and all that. But, that's all in the past. A monster ate all those rainbows and happiness that are living inside my head. The monster lived and stayed in my head. The happy noises are all gone, now i'm left with this silence. The happy packages are all gone, now i'm left with this emptiness. The happy colors are all gone, now i'm left with this bland dye. Oh, how I wish to bring back those happy noises, how I wish to bring back those happy packages, how I wish to bring back those happy colors. Sad poems, they are my home now. Bland, sad, silent, empty, and all that. Those things comforted me. They're there to lessen this heavy package in my heart. Sad poems, thank you for being my blanket when i'm cold. Sad poems, thank you for being my pillow in those sleepless nights. Sad poems, thank you for being my breath of fresh air, if that makes sense. Poems, happy or sad, thank you for being my companion. Thank you for hearing all my sentiments. Thank you for not judging me. Thank you for being there. Thank you.

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Dec 27, 2018

Dec 27, 2018 at 8:15 AM UTC

A Happy Poem and A Sad Poem

Before, i love writing bright poems. Poems about nature, poems about how nature resonates heaven. Poems about how smile and laughter can light up the whole world. Poems about dreams, dreams that became fantasies. Poems that are filled with happiness and rainbows and all that. But, that's all in the past. A monster ate all those rainbows and happiness that are living inside my head. The monster lived and stayed in my head. The happy noises are all gone, now i'm left with this silence. The happy packages are all gone, now i'm left with this emptiness. The happy colors are all gone, now i'm left with this bland dye. Oh, how I wish to bring back those happy noises, how I wish to bring back those happy packages, how I wish to bring back those happy colors. Sad poems, they are my home now. Bland, sad, silent, empty, and all that. Those things comforted me. They're there to lessen this heavy package in my heart. Sad poems, thank you for being my blanket when i'm cold. Sad poems, thank you for being my pillow in those sleepless nights. Sad poems, thank you for being my breath of fresh air, if that makes sense. Poems, happy or sad, thank you for being my companion. Thank you for hearing all my sentiments. Thank you for not judging me. Thank you for being there. Thank you.

37

No one is perfect that's what they say. But hey, there are people that's hiding in gray. Perfection, that's what the world wants now, but if you're not one, they'll kick you out. Many people are acting like they're perfect, but behind that, they have their flaws they want to protect. Just be you nothing's wrong about it, you don't have to be someone you are not, got it? Love and accept your imperfections, even though you're not perfect you'll always exceed your limitations. God made you that way for a reason. But other people are acting perfect and judging you and they are all under the demon.

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Dec 20, 2018

Dec 20, 2018 at 10:25 AM UTC

Imperfections

No one is perfect that's what they say. But hey, there are people that's hiding in gray. Perfection, that's what the world wants now, but if you're not one, they'll kick you out. Many people are acting like they're perfect, but behind that, they have their flaws they want to protect. Just be you nothing's wrong about it, you don't have to be someone you are not, got it? Love and accept your imperfections, even though you're not perfect you'll always exceed your limitations. God made you that way for a reason. But other people are acting perfect and judging you and they are all under the demon.

12

is it okay to die? is it okay to just die? is it okay that i found peace in being trapped? i just wanna lay 6 feet under the ground, unable to move, unable to breathe. is it okay if i wanna escape? is it okay if i slit my wrist? is it okay if i hang myself? is it okay if i swallow pills? is it okay if i do what i wanna do? no, it is not okay. no, it is not acceptable. no, i shouldn't do that. but, i want to. and i'm only strings away from doing it. now, let me ask you again, is it okay to die? yes, it is.

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Dec 19, 2018

Dec 19, 2018 at 6:53 AM UTC

is it okay?

is it okay to die? is it okay to just die? is it okay that i found peace in being trapped? i just wanna lay 6 feet under the ground, unable to move, unable to breathe. is it okay if i wanna escape? is it okay if i slit my wrist? is it okay if i hang myself? is it okay if i swallow pills? is it okay if i do what i wanna do? no, it is not okay. no, it is not acceptable. no, i shouldn't do that. but, i want to. and i'm only strings away from doing it. now, let me ask you again, is it okay to die? yes, it is.

19

I eat, I sleep, I walk. I do things normal people would do. I'm alive but i'm empty. No food can fill this emptiness, No drink can drown my thoughts. What am I gonna do now? I feel empty but I don't know why my heart is heavy. I sleep and rest, but why am I always tired? I seek light by closing my eyes, hoping that the moment I open them, everything would just stop. I walk, and walk, and walk. Making myself tired. I walked such great distance, I hope after this walk I'm already tired, so tired that I can't open my eyes anymore.

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Dec 7, 2018

Dec 7, 2018 at 8:28 AM UTC

Tired, so tired

I eat, I sleep, I walk. I do things normal people would do. I'm alive but i'm empty. No food can fill this emptiness, No drink can drown my thoughts. What am I gonna do now? I feel empty but I don't know why my heart is heavy. I sleep and rest, but why am I always tired? I seek light by closing my eyes, hoping that the moment I open them, everything would just stop. I walk, and walk, and walk. Making myself tired. I walked such great distance, I hope after this walk I'm already tired, so tired that I can't open my eyes anymore.

16

I'm just there sitting, watching the woods burn. Staring intently finding comfort in this shallow heat. Slowly I stand and walk towards the fire. In a snap I am already hugging the fire, feeling it's heat. Before I realize it i'm already burning. I screamed and shouted for help but no one can hear. I got out of the fire but I am still burning. I burned and burned until my tears fell. The ashes of the past are out there. Mixed with the air I breathe. And slowly suffocating me.

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Dec 2, 2018

Dec 2, 2018 at 7:35 AM UTC

Fire

I'm just there sitting, watching the woods burn. Staring intently finding comfort in this shallow heat. Slowly I stand and walk towards the fire. In a snap I am already hugging the fire, feeling it's heat. Before I realize it i'm already burning. I screamed and shouted for help but no one can hear. I got out of the fire but I am still burning. I burned and burned until my tears fell. The ashes of the past are out there. Mixed with the air I breathe. And slowly suffocating me.

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