blueberry_ice - Hello Poetry

Why do we feel guilty for existing When we were meant to be here? Why do we minimize ourselves to fit in tiny cages of our mind When there is so much space beyond them? We fear being clutter When we’re merely passing through We act small, stay silent, unnoticeable. The size of our fear is monstrous in the mind And yet it is nothing against the vastness of heavens and Earth. Do we ever realize how broad the universe is for souls like ours? So why don’t we take up space and not apologize for being? In the end, we’re all just bones and dusts and ashes, Lucky if we’re even history. After all the now is all we have, And it is ours.

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Mar 19

Mar 19, 2026 at 11:44 AM UTC

There Is Space for Us

Why do we feel guilty for existing When we were meant to be here? Why do we minimize ourselves to fit in tiny cages of our mind When there is so much space beyond them? We fear being clutter When we’re merely passing through We act small, stay silent, unnoticeable. The size of our fear is monstrous in the mind And yet it is nothing against the vastness of heavens and Earth. Do we ever realize how broad the universe is for souls like ours? So why don’t we take up space and not apologize for being? In the end, we’re all just bones and dusts and ashes, Lucky if we’re even history. After all the now is all we have, And it is ours.

15

In the fractures of the persona.. there it claws its way out From the deepest of her universe Exposed naked into the light. She looked at it eye to eye, uncomfortably, She sat with the feeling until it wasn’t, and realized it wasn’t that scary, Neither was it monstrous. It was just wounded — hurt. It didn’t need any more condemnation just for being. It needed presence, needed her to sit with it in silence, in the present. It needed nothing more than be seen — be known.. so it can rest from all that hurts.

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Jan 12

Jan 12, 2026 at 12:40 PM UTC

Grief

In the fractures of the persona.. there it claws its way out From the deepest of her universe Exposed naked into the light. She looked at it eye to eye, uncomfortably, She sat with the feeling until it wasn’t, and realized it wasn’t that scary, Neither was it monstrous. It was just wounded — hurt. It didn’t need any more condemnation just for being. It needed presence, needed her to sit with it in silence, in the present. It needed nothing more than be seen — be known.. so it can rest from all that hurts.

15

I was difficult to love, But he did anyway. He did until he can no longer. He did until nothing of him was left. And yet no matter how much he loved.. I was still unlovable.. for I cannot be loved enough. Loving me was his punishment. And to love him back was to set him free.

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Nov 19, 2025

Nov 19, 2025 at 11:39 AM UTC

I was difficult to love

I was difficult to love, But he did anyway. He did until he can no longer. He did until nothing of him was left. And yet no matter how much he loved.. I was still unlovable.. for I cannot be loved enough. Loving me was his punishment. And to love him back was to set him free.

9

She’s Chaos.. taking shape into something.. Harmless. Not the kind that shatters but the kind that births galaxies.. Raw and Unpolished, Like coal before diamond Like earth before life Crafted uncounted Created carefree Unmeasured, uncalculated .. like the sand at sea Wild, uneven, devoid of symmetry, But there’s something in those eyes that tells a story.. how she was founded from grief.. from doubts.. from shame.. from confusion.. from love.. And hope.. That even such a broken piece Is worthy of reverence.. worthy of space.. and worthy of love. As she wear her scars like armor She flaunts her flaws like truth. She finally laid down The burden of expectations that she was never meant to carry The sweet sweet child of anarchy Finally learned that she Is everything she has to be.

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Aug 24, 2025

Aug 24, 2025 at 3:13 AM UTC

ᑕᕼIᒪᗪ Oᖴ ᗩᑎᗩᖇᑕᕼY

She’s Chaos.. taking shape into something.. Harmless. Not the kind that shatters but the kind that births galaxies.. Raw and Unpolished, Like coal before diamond Like earth before life Crafted uncounted Created carefree Unmeasured, uncalculated .. like the sand at sea Wild, uneven, devoid of symmetry, But there’s something in those eyes that tells a story.. how she was founded from grief.. from doubts.. from shame.. from confusion.. from love.. And hope.. That even such a broken piece Is worthy of reverence.. worthy of space.. and worthy of love. As she wear her scars like armor She flaunts her flaws like truth. She finally laid down The burden of expectations that she was never meant to carry The sweet sweet child of anarchy Finally learned that she Is everything she has to be.

35

I want to love you so bad. but between all these entangled fear and insecurities lurks these grief and anxiety.. and there I was — sitting in the middle. Cradled by this fortress I made. Believe me I’m dying to love you so bad.. But forgive me love.. that I hate myself so much more than I could ever love.

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Aug 23, 2025

Aug 23, 2025 at 10:55 AM UTC

Dying to Love you

I want to love you so bad. but between all these entangled fear and insecurities lurks these grief and anxiety.. and there I was — sitting in the middle. Cradled by this fortress I made. Believe me I’m dying to love you so bad.. But forgive me love.. that I hate myself so much more than I could ever love.

8

Somehow this… felt comforting. to walk barefoot on the ground.. to lie down under the trees.. watching their leaves.. slowly rustle through the breeze on a lazy afternoon. Cleansing the loud noises in my head.. replacing it with peace.. and allowing my soul to breathe.. .. without guilt.. ..without shame.. .. without pain.. It was somewhat meditative.. and oddly calming .. how such a simple thing.. can bring me back.. to me.

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Aug 16, 2025

Aug 16, 2025 at 6:32 AM UTC

Grounding

Somehow this… felt comforting. to walk barefoot on the ground.. to lie down under the trees.. watching their leaves.. slowly rustle through the breeze on a lazy afternoon. Cleansing the loud noises in my head.. replacing it with peace.. and allowing my soul to breathe.. .. without guilt.. ..without shame.. .. without pain.. It was somewhat meditative.. and oddly calming .. how such a simple thing.. can bring me back.. to me.

20

I’ve learned softness in your embrace Felt the calmness in your voice Welcomed peace in my solitude And felt the rage as if being soothed by gentle hands, turning it into something soft, and bubbly, and kind Turning the fire into something warm, something comforting, Something like .. love.

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Jun 1, 2025

Jun 1, 2025 at 2:18 PM UTC

Something like Love

I’ve learned softness in your embrace Felt the calmness in your voice Welcomed peace in my solitude And felt the rage as if being soothed by gentle hands, turning it into something soft, and bubbly, and kind Turning the fire into something warm, something comforting, Something like .. love.

6

One night, I lay on the roof of my uncle’s car, the hush of metal beneath my back, the sky a cathedral of stars above me. I was ten— barefoot, breathless, a soft creature still untouched by the weight of knowing. I gazed upward, as if the constellations could answer questions I didn’t yet know how to ask. And a strange thought drifted through the dark: Will I remember this? This stillness, this smallness, this girl stretched across a car roof believing the stars were close enough to touch. Now I wonder— how odd it is to know someone so well who knows nothing of me. She lives in my marrow, but I am a ghost to her. A whisper never spoken. A future never imagined. She couldn’t have foreseen the weight I would carry, the cracks I’d survive, the nights I would look up, but no longer feel wonder. Did she know we would be alright? Or that “alright” would mean enduring a thousand quiet heartbreaks before finding the strength to reach for the stars again? If I could fold the sky and speak through time, I’d tell her— You made it. You did so well. Thank you for holding on when it was hardest. Thank you for dreaming when the world was still kind. You planted the seeds. I only grew from your light. And to the woman I am yet to meet— the future self still waiting in the wings of time— I don’t know your face, only the shimmer of your possibility. But I promise you this: I will keep going. For you. Through every storm, every silence, every starless night. Know me as the girl who stayed. Who bore the weight. Who held on. And when it's your turn— fly.

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May 31, 2025

May 31, 2025 at 2:25 PM UTC

Present

One night, I lay on the roof of my uncle’s car, the hush of metal beneath my back, the sky a cathedral of stars above me. I was ten— barefoot, breathless, a soft creature still untouched by the weight of knowing. I gazed upward, as if the constellations could answer questions I didn’t yet know how to ask. And a strange thought drifted through the dark: Will I remember this? This stillness, this smallness, this girl stretched across a car roof believing the stars were close enough to touch. Now I wonder— how odd it is to know someone so well who knows nothing of me. She lives in my marrow, but I am a ghost to her. A whisper never spoken. A future never imagined. She couldn’t have foreseen the weight I would carry, the cracks I’d survive, the nights I would look up, but no longer feel wonder. Did she know we would be alright? Or that “alright” would mean enduring a thousand quiet heartbreaks before finding the strength to reach for the stars again? If I could fold the sky and speak through time, I’d tell her— You made it. You did so well. Thank you for holding on when it was hardest. Thank you for dreaming when the world was still kind. You planted the seeds. I only grew from your light. And to the woman I am yet to meet— the future self still waiting in the wings of time— I don’t know your face, only the shimmer of your possibility. But I promise you this: I will keep going. For you. Through every storm, every silence, every starless night. Know me as the girl who stayed. Who bore the weight. Who held on. And when it's your turn— fly.

55

Darling, put yourself on a higher pedestal. You are greater than what you make yourself out to be. You are smart, you are beautiful. You lived even before them, why not live again ? For yourself.

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Sep 30, 2024

Sep 30, 2024 at 10:54 AM UTC

Live

Darling, put yourself on a higher pedestal. You are greater than what you make yourself out to be. You are smart, you are beautiful. You lived even before them, why not live again ? For yourself.

7

My soul is aching to be home. It must have been a punishment to be sent here on Earth and be lost in a crowd of ghosts not knowing how to go back to a home I don’t remember, yet feels the longing so deeply like it hurts. Strangers, lifeless eyes, indifference. What miserable thing to miss a home I’ve never set foot into. All I know Is that I do not belong here. Earth is my retribution. This is my prison.

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Sep 2, 2024

Sep 2, 2024 at 12:03 PM UTC

Home

My soul is aching to be home. It must have been a punishment to be sent here on Earth and be lost in a crowd of ghosts not knowing how to go back to a home I don’t remember, yet feels the longing so deeply like it hurts. Strangers, lifeless eyes, indifference. What miserable thing to miss a home I’ve never set foot into. All I know Is that I do not belong here. Earth is my retribution. This is my prison.

10