maggie-8
American
There is not much to say. I'm young. I'm free. I have not had a great deal of pain and adversity in my short years, only some. That some has managed to destroy parts of me that I am not sure I will ever get back. Yet I aspire to be happy, positive, and maintain what I can only hope will goad me through my upcoming years.
Home is where the broken heart is.
One hundred pieces, one by one;
I picked them up and threw them
back to watch them break again.
Two hundred pieces, it has shattered
into an irreparable state and I no
longer have the effort. But yet again
I pick them up, to throw them down.
Three hundred pieces, by now I should
know that there is no going back.
I stand there, looking down at them.
I have to leave this place called home.
Four hundred pieces, it's broken more.
I realize now that I've done it to myself.
I trusted and swore, and now it is gone.
The last of the pieces is mine to keep.
One single piece, four hundred reasons.
The last piece forms this new life giver.
This new heart I've gotten will remain
untouched, unwilling, unloved.
At home lays the broken heart.
I left myself there too.
Jan 7, 2014
Jan 7, 2014 at 10:50 PM UTC
The beauty in this world is flawed.
No true beauty is flawed;
Only imperfect.
So the beauty in this world is then false.
For the imperfections true beauty has;
Makes it as perfect as can be.
But the beauty in his world,
it is without truth.
It is a lie.
The only genuine beauty we have left,
is that found in love and
the ignorant.
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 5:12 PM UTC
I was a dreamer once.
I dreamt what I desired,
And achieved none of it.
I was a thinker once.
I thought I would dream again.
I was wrong.
I was a wanderer once.
I went astray.
Until the day I found you.
So safe were your arms.
Such delight in your eyes.
How loving you were.
I dreamt again.
I achieved what I desired.
I was wrong.
I was your lover once.
I went astray.
Now, you are gone.
Jan 6, 2014
Jan 6, 2014 at 4:20 PM UTC