palidthinkingcreature - Hello Poetry

There’s not enough. I’m more than two handfuls, I can’t keep it in anymore. The glass peels off like wax, and drips onto the floor. I’m bleeding, I’m bloodied. I can barely keep myself, out of the puddle forming on the floor. I couldn’t ask for help, I’d hate to take it all— I’d need all their hands, just to hold myself. Someone with four arms, I hope they come to save me. With just two hands, I can’t help hold their spilling glass too.

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Nov 12, 2024

Nov 12, 2024 at 10:19 PM UTC

Holding What Spills

There’s not enough. I’m more than two handfuls, I can’t keep it in anymore. The glass peels off like wax, and drips onto the floor. I’m bleeding, I’m bloodied. I can barely keep myself, out of the puddle forming on the floor. I couldn’t ask for help, I’d hate to take it all— I’d need all their hands, just to hold myself. Someone with four arms, I hope they come to save me. With just two hands, I can’t help hold their spilling glass too.

18

There’s nowhere for me, nowhere I can scream— quietly, peacefully. I can’t disturb, the gentle, quiet Night. These tears know, too— They only know one home, stuck deep inside. They drown in the ocean, wondering when they will fly from my eyes. The time comes. I shake, I tremble. My soul goes ragged— with grief, with joy, with guilt, with love, with anger, with hope. It’s wretchedly beautiful. I raise my chin. I shake, I tremble. But only a crack forms in the dam. Only a stream seeps into my lap. I unhinge my jaw. I shake, I tremble. I try to ***** the full blue moon. But not a sound disturbs, the gentle, quiet Night. I can’t hear myself. But it's screaming. It claws, it hungers, it wants out. But I’m not ready. My heart has grown too attached to the weight, of this dead child hiding inside me.

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Nov 12, 2024

Nov 12, 2024 at 9:33 PM UTC

Quietly Kept

There’s nowhere for me, nowhere I can scream— quietly, peacefully. I can’t disturb, the gentle, quiet Night. These tears know, too— They only know one home, stuck deep inside. They drown in the ocean, wondering when they will fly from my eyes. The time comes. I shake, I tremble. My soul goes ragged— with grief, with joy, with guilt, with love, with anger, with hope. It’s wretchedly beautiful. I raise my chin. I shake, I tremble. But only a crack forms in the dam. Only a stream seeps into my lap. I unhinge my jaw. I shake, I tremble. I try to ***** the full blue moon. But not a sound disturbs, the gentle, quiet Night. I can’t hear myself. But it's screaming. It claws, it hungers, it wants out. But I’m not ready. My heart has grown too attached to the weight, of this dead child hiding inside me.

39

The town is new, its buildings washed in grey. The streets are clean, it's peaceful here— but its too quiet. Everything here is bleak, so colorless, drained of thought. The people stay inside, I can't hear them smiling, can't see them laughing. Today, the streets are busy, its a funeral march of faces they move in one direction, headed to the same place, but they don't go together. They're all going somewhere. to do something unimportant. They built another building, big and grey, empty of laughter. People act out scenes that once felt funny, but they act only for the camera, they only laugh for the camera. No one looks up at the sky. there's nothing there anymore— just thin sheets of grey. No gold, no silver, even when the sun sinks. I still see gold and silver, hidden somewhere behind the clouds. but this town stays grey. I reach for my brush, longing to paint something bright. But each stroke fades— the colors turn to ash, grey bleeding into my hands. I hate this town.

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Nov 7, 2024

Nov 7, 2024 at 12:02 PM UTC

Ghostlight

The town is new, its buildings washed in grey. The streets are clean, it's peaceful here— but its too quiet. Everything here is bleak, so colorless, drained of thought. The people stay inside, I can't hear them smiling, can't see them laughing. Today, the streets are busy, its a funeral march of faces they move in one direction, headed to the same place, but they don't go together. They're all going somewhere. to do something unimportant. They built another building, big and grey, empty of laughter. People act out scenes that once felt funny, but they act only for the camera, they only laugh for the camera. No one looks up at the sky. there's nothing there anymore— just thin sheets of grey. No gold, no silver, even when the sun sinks. I still see gold and silver, hidden somewhere behind the clouds. but this town stays grey. I reach for my brush, longing to paint something bright. But each stroke fades— the colors turn to ash, grey bleeding into my hands. I hate this town.

36

I am the Light, creation’s full breadth, a spring breeze, a blooming flower, a selfless giver, full of dreams and a naive hope. I am the Dark, stagnation’s great champion, a dying star, a shambling corpse, a perpetual sleeper, full of dreams and a ragged guilt. i am these Two– and I am one more. oh please, let me shine, please let me– it's cold, i’m drowning, please remember, please don’t forget, please don’t– please– oh please, make it stop, please stop it– it’s bright, i’m burning, I need peace, please be quiet, please leave– please– please save me. i am Tormented.

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Nov 6, 2024

Nov 6, 2024 at 5:29 PM UTC

A Cry in the Dark

I am the Light, creation’s full breadth, a spring breeze, a blooming flower, a selfless giver, full of dreams and a naive hope. I am the Dark, stagnation’s great champion, a dying star, a shambling corpse, a perpetual sleeper, full of dreams and a ragged guilt. i am these Two– and I am one more. oh please, let me shine, please let me– it's cold, i’m drowning, please remember, please don’t forget, please don’t– please– oh please, make it stop, please stop it– it’s bright, i’m burning, I need peace, please be quiet, please leave– please– please save me. i am Tormented.

36

These eyes of mine They see everything They see him helping his friends They see her comforting her friends They see them holding the door for everyone They see her smiling at a strangers They see him complimenting strangers They see them looking so at ease They see him craft with thought They see her craft with care And they see them in pretty pastel colors Laying under the same setting sun She gives him a scarf It's his favorite color He gives her a music box It’s her favorite song Why? Why do I see tears on the mirror? Why do I see… Only me. Just me. Alone.

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Nov 6, 2024

Nov 6, 2024 at 5:27 PM UTC

Through the Looking Glass

These eyes of mine They see everything They see him helping his friends They see her comforting her friends They see them holding the door for everyone They see her smiling at a strangers They see him complimenting strangers They see them looking so at ease They see him craft with thought They see her craft with care And they see them in pretty pastel colors Laying under the same setting sun She gives him a scarf It's his favorite color He gives her a music box It’s her favorite song Why? Why do I see tears on the mirror? Why do I see… Only me. Just me. Alone.

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