archiveofagirl - Hello Poetry

the stars don’t take up space sonically they don’t take up space for their ego to lounge about with a complex they don’t prance about with a sense of owed entitlement, spewing rhetorics of contemptuous right nonsense conniving, cruel, trecherous, wicked; all traits stars do not possess but a familiarity walks with them like an honourary badge i wish for once they would speak the language of the stars; silence seldom are they well-meaning, acting without consequence handpicked does that same glow exist in the nature of man, yet the stars never have to question whether it has met them restless, relentless i grow in the face of them for why is he called a gentleman if he is not gentle at all?

0

Mar 18

Mar 18, 2026 at 1:42 PM UTC

archiveofagirl

disproportionate

the stars don’t take up space sonically they don’t take up space for their ego to lounge about with a complex they don’t prance about with a sense of owed entitlement, spewing rhetorics of contemptuous right nonsense conniving, cruel, trecherous, wicked; all traits stars do not possess but a familiarity walks with them like an honourary badge i wish for once they would speak the language of the stars; silence seldom are they well-meaning, acting without consequence handpicked does that same glow exist in the nature of man, yet the stars never have to question whether it has met them restless, relentless i grow in the face of them for why is he called a gentleman if he is not gentle at all?

15

there is a seed one i've unknowingly co-nurtured one that was born with me once sprouted, familiar sweetness did not fill its petals nor its roots how this seed of mine befriended evil, i cannot tell you did i lend a hand in curating the darkness it's kissed by? maybe but that hand also bears fruits sometimes, warmth even so surely it's not all that bad, i think but time and time and time and time again i am proven otherwise

0

Mar 13

Mar 13, 2026 at 1:17 PM UTC

archiveofagirl

a seed, a soul

there is a seed one i've unknowingly co-nurtured one that was born with me once sprouted, familiar sweetness did not fill its petals nor its roots how this seed of mine befriended evil, i cannot tell you did i lend a hand in curating the darkness it's kissed by? maybe but that hand also bears fruits sometimes, warmth even so surely it's not all that bad, i think but time and time and time and time again i am proven otherwise

11

i sit in the center of an empty room and spill out everywhere all that i am slowly seeping down my side and painting the floor shades of maroon, amaranth and despair. i can't gather myself, i claw at myself in a frenzy trying to salvage what i can. a subtle anger emanates through my fingers, longing following suit. emotions stay with me, however. the good, but moreso the bad. they are what fuels this orchestra. they sit in their place reciting words i've heard spoken millions of times over. ones of joy sit prettily, but others roar over them with an unmatched power that leaves no choice but for the initial to cower to, plaguing me in the quiet stillness. over time i've learnt to let it flow freely. sure, i make an effort to contain it but it's fixed in its nature. as if my sole purpose is to drown in myself. there's a certain melancholy to its tale. this fate follows me through all my lives; a soul stamp. and so i stay sitting, losing track of how long ive been a puppet in this show. after all, i'm the only one that can see it.

0

Mar 13

Mar 13, 2026 at 11:01 AM UTC

archiveofagirl

for every piece that i keep, ten more escape me

i sit in the center of an empty room and spill out everywhere all that i am slowly seeping down my side and painting the floor shades of maroon, amaranth and despair. i can't gather myself, i claw at myself in a frenzy trying to salvage what i can. a subtle anger emanates through my fingers, longing following suit. emotions stay with me, however. the good, but moreso the bad. they are what fuels this orchestra. they sit in their place reciting words i've heard spoken millions of times over. ones of joy sit prettily, but others roar over them with an unmatched power that leaves no choice but for the initial to cower to, plaguing me in the quiet stillness. over time i've learnt to let it flow freely. sure, i make an effort to contain it but it's fixed in its nature. as if my sole purpose is to drown in myself. there's a certain melancholy to its tale. this fate follows me through all my lives; a soul stamp. and so i stay sitting, losing track of how long ive been a puppet in this show. after all, i'm the only one that can see it.

21