You are the poetry I long sought,
and I thank the stars I finally found you,
as I string together the words that lived within me,
they finally make sense when I'm around you.
You are the poetry I long sought
when I was desperately busy seeking out supposed truths;
your existence made itself known, giving me the strength
to face realities and ask forgiveness from my tragic youth.
You are the poetry I long sought,
the one I will write about in the face of utter devastation
with the memories of warmth, gentleness, and comfort
plastered upon the smile on my face with great elation.
You are the poetry I long sought,
the one I thought I could never witness in this lifetime.
You are the poetry and the subject of all of mine,
as the words that once tortured me now became my lifeline.
I have been lost and broken, wandering for so long,
lost in the ocean of doubts, insecurities, and lonely thoughts,
but with you, my hands are guided to where I want to be;
it's with you, because you are the poetry I long sought.
Apr 28, 2024
Apr 28, 2024 at 8:58 AM UTC
the color of
happiness;
my favorite for as long as my hands learned of brush strokes and canvases
so vibrant,
comforting
the color of
you;
my favorite for as long as my hands felt the warmth of yours in a struggle I've never been through
so safe,
comforting
My dearest orange,
I'm glad you exist.
Mar 26, 2024
Mar 26, 2024 at 2:38 PM UTC
Poetry is a mere flowing thought
when I first fell,
but now, loving you?
It's its special type of hell.
We love the same color,
do the same jokes;
we try hard for our passions
until our sanity broke.
We spoke loudly of interests,
listen intently on our friends,
but we're still **** in processing
our emotions at hand.
We're some times there,
we're some times not,
we some times leave each other out
that we basically rot.
We always run away,
we constantly hide
from this reality we promise
to fight alongside.
I know I'm not the best,
and that I'm too harsh on myself;
but your existence
shift me around to fight,
and change,
and survive,
so give me this time,
forgive me this time,
as I prove myself one last time,
not to anyone else in particular
but me, myself, and I.
I would like to say this however:
I miss you, every single day
I want to see you, every single day,
and no matter what happens,
whatever the circumstance
as we **** ourselves,
to change ourselves,
just to prove ourselves
in this lifetime,
I will choose you,
and only you,
every single day.
I will see you in the end,
be with you in the end,
but until then,
take care.
Mar 26, 2024
Mar 26, 2024 at 2:30 PM UTC
How does one ask for help
in a helpless situation?
Drowning,
crying,
struggling to find the words
in a vacuum of doubt
and loneliness.
When nobody's there,
how deep does the ocean go
until I stop drifting away?
How does one ask
without needing to say?
Mar 26, 2024
Mar 26, 2024 at 2:00 PM UTC
Everyday is an uphill slope
—a vertical some days
—always picking up the slack;
picking up the pace.
Desperate, delusional,
acts of disgrace,
but how do you ask for forgiveness
with a struggling face?
I wish it were easier
living, that is;
I force life to be easier;
surviving, it is.
How do you tell people
you're suffocating,
when the air on the slope
is dissipating?
Mar 26, 2024
Mar 26, 2024 at 1:55 PM UTC
I won't give up on kindness because you exist,
and it is your kindness that my heart learned
that I can be kind to myself, too,
and by the consequence of your kindness,
I won't give up on you.
I hope these words reach you once more
as I relearn your kindness
all over again.
Mar 26, 2024
Mar 26, 2024 at 1:49 PM UTC
If the darkness ever overwhelmed
my wavering resistance,
tell the tale of a knight
who fought the abyss
under the brightest skies.
Apr 19, 2021
Apr 19, 2021 at 2:28 PM UTC
Can the birds stop flocking for one second
and check for one missing flap?
I wouldn't say I know,
but I'm not sure if it's selfish to ask.
Wisdom dictates
"Oh yeah, you can ask for help,"
but forgot the error that it might not come.
I just want to scream so loud
that even the deaf would hear me
even for just a second,
I want the blind to look at me,
the mute to speak to me,
the crippled to stand up, walk to me and hug me.
Is it too much to ask to acknowledge me
as someone who exists?
Why do I feel like
it's an impossibility
to be given a second
of attention?
Am I really a tree that doesn't make a sound?
I've already fallen, but I'm waiting to see
if someone saw me at least stood up.
I feel like ****
unimportant,
unworthy,
disposable,
dead.
I refused to die because you can't **** the same soul twice,
but in terms of killing me, I still haven't tried.
I want to implode and scream and tear my heart out;
I want to fly, fall down, break all my bones;
I want to do all of the bad things SO BAD
just to feel anything.
Nobody would witness anyway.
Nobody would check up on me and ask what's happening.
Nobody.
Am I really a nobody?
They said I matter, but do I really?
Matter, or mattered?
Help me...
...but I guess people already gave up reading midway.
No matter how loud I call for help,
they always chose to answer too late.
Here's to new collections of ugly scars.
Mar 31, 2021
Mar 31, 2021 at 1:42 PM UTC
I feel the broken shards wrapped around my heart,
and the fire scorching my soul
as I catch the glimpse of the ugly marks
a broken ruler might leave
like paper cuts on fingers.
I feel my minds dwindling, spiralling,
falling into a bottomless pit,
without ever moving an inch as I stay put
and live through every iteration of how
my life can definitely fail.
I feel my tears run down dry,
like rain on a cloudless day:
pointless;
even as I leave the bruises and cuts
to my own hide
in the name of self-sabotage,
the concept of pain,
no matter how much it threatens my tears,
can never threaten my kindness
and facade
to accept it with arms wide open.
I am cut, bruised, sick, tired, and everything in between,
but I will never, for the life of me,
be killed by my own hands,
not after I found a reason to live.
Friends,
Ambitions,
Love;
A combination of the three,
a mirror as well;
someone I can always trust, dream, and love.
Someone who held me so close and so tight,
I never realized how much of myself
had been chipped off already
until she picked up my fragments,
and I held hers.
Someone, who after all these years,
of mental torture from those of my blood,
physical torture from mine alone
to which I feigned resiliency to,
I have found the reason to try and stop.
I've finally found her:
the one that I love;
someone to whom I will proudly say
"Good morning" to,
as I stand proud that I still live
to fight another day,
to fight for this reason.
Let my family **** me;
let the world run me over tenfold;
let my non-existent demons
punch me out cold,
but if opened my eyes and realized
that I'm still in pain,
then I shall refuse to die.
Not yet,
not for her.
Not now,
not ever.
Mar 17, 2021
Mar 17, 2021 at 2:52 PM UTC
I don't know
how painful
the candlewax feels
---or at least,
I can't remember
when my life started fading away
---or so I thought,
for I don't have a candle
to begin with.
Apr 27, 2020
Apr 27, 2020 at 1:00 PM UTC