firebird - Hello Poetry

I am adept In the art of being okay I have mastered the craft Of covering my troubles I use all sorts of fancy facades Acrylic, oil, watercolor You name it. I can paint over nearly anything You will never know How late I was up last night Or why. My eyes flicker Like candlelight But you couldn’t see You couldn’t possibly see I’m too good For that. I can dance, too Waltzing away my sorrows Carefully tip toe-ing the Pas-de-I-am-fine I get a standing ovation every time I’m very talented, you see. But my all time favorite Is my disappearing act I’m still perfecting it Right now But one of these days I’ll show you How I Slip Slip Slip Away Right through your fingers.

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firebird

Jul 28, 2018

Jul 28, 2018 at 8:58 AM UTC

Darcyt90

The Art of Being Okay

I am adept In the art of being okay I have mastered the craft Of covering my troubles I use all sorts of fancy facades Acrylic, oil, watercolor You name it. I can paint over nearly anything You will never know How late I was up last night Or why. My eyes flicker Like candlelight But you couldn’t see You couldn’t possibly see I’m too good For that. I can dance, too Waltzing away my sorrows Carefully tip toe-ing the Pas-de-I-am-fine I get a standing ovation every time I’m very talented, you see. But my all time favorite Is my disappearing act I’m still perfecting it Right now But one of these days I’ll show you How I Slip Slip Slip Away Right through your fingers.

35

*Never fall in love with a poet for their words are sometimes lies on occasions they're a shield on occasions a disguise They will take you on a journey upon which they bare their soul in a bid to ease your burdens in a bid to make you whole But in every word they choose for the stories that they tell lies a little piece of heaven and a little piece of hell Tormented souls we poets are sometimes quite broken and despaired in search of lost expressions missed by others who once cared Never fall in love with a poet unless you're prepared to share their pain to hold them close on the darkest nights over and again*

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firebird

Apr 5, 2018

Apr 5, 2018 at 6:22 PM UTC

a-thomas-hawkins

Never fall in love with a poet...

*Never fall in love with a poet for their words are sometimes lies on occasions they're a shield on occasions a disguise They will take you on a journey upon which they bare their soul in a bid to ease your burdens in a bid to make you whole But in every word they choose for the stories that they tell lies a little piece of heaven and a little piece of hell Tormented souls we poets are sometimes quite broken and despaired in search of lost expressions missed by others who once cared Never fall in love with a poet unless you're prepared to share their pain to hold them close on the darkest nights over and again*

20

I tried to write a poem about how I felt but the paper just stayed empty because how do you write out the sudden realization that because you trusted and told a secret a friend will never look at you the same how do you write out your screams when he lays his cold hands on your body how do you write out the red of your skin after trying to scrub his touch off how do you write out the sound of her voice when she laughs and calls your name how do you write out the taste of your tears when your parents say you’ll always be a girl how do you write out loneliness and watching your two friends talk and laugh while you just sit quietly how do you write out jealousy and regret when you see how little everyone cares I don’t know how to write this poem I guess I’m just not a good poet.

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Mar 29, 2018

Mar 29, 2018 at 8:16 PM UTC

firebird

Not A Good Poet

I tried to write a poem about how I felt but the paper just stayed empty because how do you write out the sudden realization that because you trusted and told a secret a friend will never look at you the same how do you write out your screams when he lays his cold hands on your body how do you write out the red of your skin after trying to scrub his touch off how do you write out the sound of her voice when she laughs and calls your name how do you write out the taste of your tears when your parents say you’ll always be a girl how do you write out loneliness and watching your two friends talk and laugh while you just sit quietly how do you write out jealousy and regret when you see how little everyone cares I don’t know how to write this poem I guess I’m just not a good poet.

36

My whole life Iitried to live in the body I was given The body I am in Growing up I never “saw the signs” I never knew that there was anything else I could possibily be I never knew that I was going to change Or that there was anything else Something. Someone better that I could be Someone who is more comfortable in their skin I had no idea that the reflection I saw staring back at me everyday in the mirror was not me at all Ive noticed that ive felt different from how I was taught to feel Ive found out a lot of things in my life so far But I never thought I would find myself being envius of boy Not because I disliked them but because I wanted to be like them I found myself not wanting boys But wanting to dress like them Not wanting boys But wanting to walk like them Not wanting boys But wanting to have my hair short like theirs To have a “boys” hair cut I found myself not wanting a boyfriend But wanting to be someones boyfriend I found myself realizing that so many girls have that muscular physique I thought it was normal because other girls looked like that So maybe I can too? I tried to fit myself in the categories I saw others in Girls. Boys like girls. Girls like girls too I like girls. Im a girl that likes girls But I do not want to be a muscular girl I shouldn’t be in this body So why am I? Why does my mom strictly tell me not to pick flannels when were in the store Have conversations with my stepdad saying She wants to be…. But how can she… If shes not even.. How can she? She doesn’t like showing skin she tells him Im too angry to listen to rest But then he says Im not saying its right but its her HE SAID IM NOT SAYING ITS RIGHT HE SAID IM NOT SAYING ITS RIGHT WHAT IS RIGHT!? I was certainly a fool He never did accept me huh? That. Is .Right. But in my eyes im struggling with confusion The illusion of my body and what I have now Is the not the reflection of the real. Me I found myself listening to other peoples stories and comparing myself to them I should feel the same way because you have to feel the same as everyone else to be trans But I didn’t. So I brushed the feelings away Let them fade. Blind to similarities Frustrated because I had no idea who, or what I was I looked at so many peoples stories And the one thing I didn’t take from them all until the end was They were all different NEVER WERE THEY IDENTICAL SIMILAR NOT IDENTICAL SIMILAR NOT IDENTICAL WHO Am I Who am I if I am not the same I am different I am not supposed to have the same realizations as everyone else The entire time I was looking around for answers from other people Truly I knew exactly where the answer was But. The feeling of trepidation was all my mind knew for the first few weeks of searching I found myself thinking some more This house is only bringing me down Can I just get out of here? I found myself wondering why she loved to prevent me from doing things I loved The same ones that praise you Are the same ones that hate you I am me. Alittle bit different than most. But im me I found myself, while writing this poem

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firebird

Mar 26, 2018

Mar 26, 2018 at 1:23 PM UTC

Vincentfolkes

I found myself

My whole life Iitried to live in the body I was given The body I am in Growing up I never “saw the signs” I never knew that there was anything else I could possibily be I never knew that I was going to change Or that there was anything else Something. Someone better that I could be Someone who is more comfortable in their skin I had no idea that the reflection I saw staring back at me everyday in the mirror was not me at all Ive noticed that ive felt different from how I was taught to feel Ive found out a lot of things in my life so far But I never thought I would find myself being envius of boy Not because I disliked them but because I wanted to be like them I found myself not wanting boys But wanting to dress like them Not wanting boys But wanting to walk like them Not wanting boys But wanting to have my hair short like theirs To have a “boys” hair cut I found myself not wanting a boyfriend But wanting to be someones boyfriend I found myself realizing that so many girls have that muscular physique I thought it was normal because other girls looked like that So maybe I can too? I tried to fit myself in the categories I saw others in Girls. Boys like girls. Girls like girls too I like girls. Im a girl that likes girls But I do not want to be a muscular girl I shouldn’t be in this body So why am I? Why does my mom strictly tell me not to pick flannels when were in the store Have conversations with my stepdad saying She wants to be…. But how can she… If shes not even.. How can she? She doesn’t like showing skin she tells him Im too angry to listen to rest But then he says Im not saying its right but its her HE SAID IM NOT SAYING ITS RIGHT HE SAID IM NOT SAYING ITS RIGHT WHAT IS RIGHT!? I was certainly a fool He never did accept me huh? That. Is .Right. But in my eyes im struggling with confusion The illusion of my body and what I have now Is the not the reflection of the real. Me I found myself listening to other peoples stories and comparing myself to them I should feel the same way because you have to feel the same as everyone else to be trans But I didn’t. So I brushed the feelings away Let them fade. Blind to similarities Frustrated because I had no idea who, or what I was I looked at so many peoples stories And the one thing I didn’t take from them all until the end was They were all different NEVER WERE THEY IDENTICAL SIMILAR NOT IDENTICAL SIMILAR NOT IDENTICAL WHO Am I Who am I if I am not the same I am different I am not supposed to have the same realizations as everyone else The entire time I was looking around for answers from other people Truly I knew exactly where the answer was But. The feeling of trepidation was all my mind knew for the first few weeks of searching I found myself thinking some more This house is only bringing me down Can I just get out of here? I found myself wondering why she loved to prevent me from doing things I loved The same ones that praise you Are the same ones that hate you I am me. Alittle bit different than most. But im me I found myself, while writing this poem

82

I. You bleed in places boys are never meant to bleed; You want to make yourself bleed in more places because of it. II. There will be places on your body that are no longer for touching. They mean nothing to you, but the nerve-endings interaction with another hand will let you know they’re real. They cannot be real. III. You will hear love songs, and you will want to rip your own lungs out in your fist. They give you enough trouble anyways. IV. You never do rip your lungs out. You cannot fit your fingers down your throat, and your ribs are too strong for your too small hands to break. You cough when it’s cold out and laughing has hurt for months. V. You tell people that you reach out to them when you need to. You reach out to them on good days. You do not tell them that the days on which you cannot even form the words to ask for their help are they days you need it, and you do not expect them to know this. VI. You talk about escaping like it’s going to fix things. You think about escaping as though it means ripping open your skin and walking away from it. VII. You think about what is wrong with you and you conclude you are unlovable. The statement is not untrue. You will hold up your own broken bones as proof. VIII. You sit in the bath for three hours and you look at yourself and you look at the ceiling. You do not punch the walls anymore; it was loud and someone asked about the slamming. IX. You put your own hands around your neck for hours but you never tighten them. You do not want to be disappointed in their lack of strength. X. There will be fingernail marks across your chest for a few days. You will not see them, no one will see them. No one wants to see that, and you cannot bear to look.

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firebird

Mar 26, 2018

Mar 26, 2018 at 1:23 PM UTC

Steven-Muir

Ten Ways You Will Love Your Body

I. You bleed in places boys are never meant to bleed; You want to make yourself bleed in more places because of it. II. There will be places on your body that are no longer for touching. They mean nothing to you, but the nerve-endings interaction with another hand will let you know they’re real. They cannot be real. III. You will hear love songs, and you will want to rip your own lungs out in your fist. They give you enough trouble anyways. IV. You never do rip your lungs out. You cannot fit your fingers down your throat, and your ribs are too strong for your too small hands to break. You cough when it’s cold out and laughing has hurt for months. V. You tell people that you reach out to them when you need to. You reach out to them on good days. You do not tell them that the days on which you cannot even form the words to ask for their help are they days you need it, and you do not expect them to know this. VI. You talk about escaping like it’s going to fix things. You think about escaping as though it means ripping open your skin and walking away from it. VII. You think about what is wrong with you and you conclude you are unlovable. The statement is not untrue. You will hold up your own broken bones as proof. VIII. You sit in the bath for three hours and you look at yourself and you look at the ceiling. You do not punch the walls anymore; it was loud and someone asked about the slamming. IX. You put your own hands around your neck for hours but you never tighten them. You do not want to be disappointed in their lack of strength. X. There will be fingernail marks across your chest for a few days. You will not see them, no one will see them. No one wants to see that, and you cannot bear to look.

35

There is a boy that lives in my closet. I keep him in a Nike shoebox next to my skeletons and other things I’m trying to get rid of. Day by day I guard the door to my closet in fear of what you’ll say when you realize he’s not another thing you can control. I beg and hope that he’ll stay inside my claustrophobic closet but each time I let him out it gets harder to keep him in because now he knows there’s something outside his confined life. Because now he knows there is a world of dazzling color and loud laughter and he isn’t satisfied like he used to be. So each time I leave my home he escapes into the way I talk or the binder on my chest and it scares me that I can’t seem to hide him anymore. There was a time when I wasn’t afraid to let him be seen. We used to play together, back when we didn’t realize you were staring at us in horror, whispering my difference in each other's ears. But just because he was visible doesn’t mean he was seen instead all you could see was a confused girl, a “tomboy”. But you say I’m getting too old to be a tomboy. Last night you crept into my closet a gun in your hand and uttered those ten painful words I could not bear: “You’re going to high school as a girl next year.” And for each word there was a bullet wound bleeding water from my eyes and screams from my throat I woke up to find locks on my closet, a reminder that all the courage I’d worked up to tell you about the boy I was hiding was a wasted effort. The boy pounds his fists against the empty walls but I can only helplessly cry for the person I wish I was.

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Mar 6, 2018

Mar 6, 2018 at 7:59 PM UTC

firebird

The Boy In My Closet

There is a boy that lives in my closet. I keep him in a Nike shoebox next to my skeletons and other things I’m trying to get rid of. Day by day I guard the door to my closet in fear of what you’ll say when you realize he’s not another thing you can control. I beg and hope that he’ll stay inside my claustrophobic closet but each time I let him out it gets harder to keep him in because now he knows there’s something outside his confined life. Because now he knows there is a world of dazzling color and loud laughter and he isn’t satisfied like he used to be. So each time I leave my home he escapes into the way I talk or the binder on my chest and it scares me that I can’t seem to hide him anymore. There was a time when I wasn’t afraid to let him be seen. We used to play together, back when we didn’t realize you were staring at us in horror, whispering my difference in each other's ears. But just because he was visible doesn’t mean he was seen instead all you could see was a confused girl, a “tomboy”. But you say I’m getting too old to be a tomboy. Last night you crept into my closet a gun in your hand and uttered those ten painful words I could not bear: “You’re going to high school as a girl next year.” And for each word there was a bullet wound bleeding water from my eyes and screams from my throat I woke up to find locks on my closet, a reminder that all the courage I’d worked up to tell you about the boy I was hiding was a wasted effort. The boy pounds his fists against the empty walls but I can only helplessly cry for the person I wish I was.

64

Alone, 5 letters To some it's just a small word For others it's life

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firebird

Feb 9, 2018

Feb 9, 2018 at 2:40 PM UTC

vr2018

A L O N E -haiku

Alone, 5 letters To some it's just a small word For others it's life

3

You told me nobody wants you. When did that happen? I want you, but I don’t see where I became “nobody”. I mean, in my eyes I’m somebody. In my eyes I’m somebody likable and funny… but I am pretty stupid. And I mess up a lot. But I am definitely not “nobody”. So when you tell me that nobody wants you, that- that hurts! Cause I don’t see how you can say that when someone is there looking out for you every day, because they care about you very, very much. I am not “nobody” so never say nobody wants you. Because I want you. And I’ll fight for you every day, just say the word. I think about you every day, I wonder how you’re doing because I- I can’t be there with you all the time! But that doesn’t mean I’m “nobody”.

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Feb 9, 2018

Feb 9, 2018 at 2:37 PM UTC

firebird

I Am Not "Nobody"

You told me nobody wants you. When did that happen? I want you, but I don’t see where I became “nobody”. I mean, in my eyes I’m somebody. In my eyes I’m somebody likable and funny… but I am pretty stupid. And I mess up a lot. But I am definitely not “nobody”. So when you tell me that nobody wants you, that- that hurts! Cause I don’t see how you can say that when someone is there looking out for you every day, because they care about you very, very much. I am not “nobody” so never say nobody wants you. Because I want you. And I’ll fight for you every day, just say the word. I think about you every day, I wonder how you’re doing because I- I can’t be there with you all the time! But that doesn’t mean I’m “nobody”.

31

Never trust a mirror For a mirror always lies It makes you think that all you’re worth Can be seen from the outside Never trust a mirror It only shows you what’s skin deep You can’t see your eyelids flutter When you’re drifting off to sleep It doesn’t show you what the world can see When you’re only being you Or how your eyes light up And your reflection cannot tell you Everything you mean to me Never trust a mirror For it only shows your skin And if you think it dictates what your worth It’s time to look within

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firebird

Feb 8, 2018

Feb 8, 2018 at 5:11 PM UTC

Charlie_violet

Mirror

Never trust a mirror For a mirror always lies It makes you think that all you’re worth Can be seen from the outside Never trust a mirror It only shows you what’s skin deep You can’t see your eyelids flutter When you’re drifting off to sleep It doesn’t show you what the world can see When you’re only being you Or how your eyes light up And your reflection cannot tell you Everything you mean to me Never trust a mirror For it only shows your skin And if you think it dictates what your worth It’s time to look within

17