raise your head, but never have
arrogance in your heart
use that confidence in you to
empower other people around
☾ M. E. Kuşaslan ✩
@lightinthedarknesspoetry
Feb 10, 2019
Feb 10, 2019 at 10:51 PM UTC
Frustrations mixed with delusions of grandeur, sipping on CrynChronic, at least Tails had Sonic. what good is a view if it’s covered in fog, haha look at the *** on the log. Oops it’s a mirror, no Alexa five more minutes, once my eyes open the anxiety starts, the peace departs, the draining begins, I’m losing my wind.
Glass #2 is a trip I want to cancel, no insurance so it takes its toll. I want to buy make up stock so credit it is. The interest is high so I bet on my feelings. District 13 odds but we came from the ground, shh not a sound, keep the tension inside. They say the greatest earthquakes come from the littlest lies. Remember the fruit! Every misstep is a big step, every bad course is a crash course, every tall tale is an exhale. Grow Up. I learn from the lessons but feed my depression, no free lunch, please charge my aggression. Insufficient funds when I withdraw my resentment. Look at the time it’s a quarter past regret, I hear they spit in your drink here. Another excuse to tighten the noose. Glass half full, no waiter thanks, I’m not thirsty.
Feb 10, 2019
Feb 10, 2019 at 10:49 PM UTC
Someone stole my color
And threw it to the wind
Scattered like ashes
I don’t know if I’ll ever find it
Someone stole my color
From the face I know so well
I saw it in the cotton candy clouds
And the teal ocean swell
Someone stole my color
I guess that’s where it went
The world looks so much brighter
Like something heaven-sent
Someone stole my color
And that’s what no one knows
Depression isn’t black
It’s the color of a rose
It’s the light orange in a sunset
And the yellow of a peach
Light blue, my favorite color
So simply out of reach
Purple like my favorite eyeshadow
No, lavender, I’d guess you’d say
And my favorite music artist
Although he has passed away
Someone stole my color
Now everything’s too bright
I suppose sometimes darkness
Isn’t the opposite of light
Someone stole my color
So I’ll wear grey and black
As if in mourning
Until I get it back
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 12:48 PM UTC
The poet lives two lives.
One on the outside,
And one in their mind.
When you look in their eyes
You could see an abyss.
If you looked long enough
You could sink into it.
But most people don’t see it.
Take the time to read the words, though,
And you would know for sure.
The poet lives in two different worlds.
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 12:47 PM UTC
He writes poetry
But no one knows
He writes poetry
He writes about love
And loss
He writes about smiles
And frowns
He writes about sorrow
And forgotten towns
He writes about how lost he gets
Caught up in his own mind
He writes poetry to
And about others
But no one knows
Know one knows the depth of his soul
Because they all choose to see the exterior
And that exterior screams
Preppy
And preppy
Don't have souls
Or so they thought
Until the day he was consumed
By his own poetry
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 12:37 PM UTC
The sun is sinking like a ship
Into an ocean blue abyss,
While the moon emerges slowly
Bringing sweet, nocturnal bliss
When the last rays grip horizons edge
Reds and purples will scar the skies
And the moon can only live
When the sunlight finally dies
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 12:32 PM UTC
And you ask me,
Dear friend
Why I have painted
The world red
And I would have said:
Mind you I did not
Paint this world red
Someone just threw paint over my eyes once
And I haven't gotten it off yet
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 12:31 PM UTC
I forgive myself for that weak moment.
When I wanted nothing more than to decieve you, to hurt you.
I forgive myself, cause I didn't.
I forgive you for your lack of words, for your absence.
Cause deep down I know.
I'm sorry that I even have to be sorry..
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 12:30 PM UTC
i touch my soul and release the ON switch.
The darkness beckons like an aborted child full of possibilities never explored.
Potential never reached.
Heights never teached.
Things never speeched.
But life goes on thrashing like a rude animal, desperately devouring all in its path with no end in sight, and no table manners.
Trembling slowly, my hand reaches into the abyss for a drop of light to comfort my flickering life force. The only channel of hope that now rushes with the ferocity of a dying turtle, with no home to speak of.
TICK TOCK, click clack, the only sounds that remind me that reality never shuts off.
Where’s the remote?
It was never invented.
My shadows play dead to my consciousness, never there to teach me my concrete lessons.
So I scratch my bed stings, reminders of my past, itches of my present, and marks in my future.
The fade to black is my only resolution.
The gavel sounds and I pinch myself, hoping it’s a dream, no it’s just a scheme, ultralight beam?
The ticks turn into Morse code. Translation?
Start over.
Nov 15, 2018
Nov 15, 2018 at 12:26 PM UTC