What left of me
Is my scattered words
Here and there
They don't mix and match anymore
They're just a floating words
No flows, no directions
I lost you.
I lost them.
What left of me
Is my scarred heart
To write is to force to accept.
But finding my words back
Is not accepting I lost you
I thought it would ****
But only when I write
I will never lost you.
Jul 27, 2021
Jul 27, 2021 at 7:40 PM UTC
Suddenly I am too fond of sleeping.
Waking up become the nightmares.
Sleeping heals my wounded mind.
Like a coward in my nightmares
I refuse to fight and wake up.
And when nothing feels like the safest,
my only hope is a sweet dream to come.
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 3:11 AM UTC
I've got a list of secrets
Secrets I treasured the most.
Like the face I make
when no one is looking,
Or the words I say
when no one can hear me.
Like the books I read
when I am scared at night,
Or the song I sing and listen to
when I'm alone.
Like the thoughts I hide
when my mind is screaming,
Or the tears I let out
before I sleep at night,
Or the fake smiles I wipe
after all the bad days.
All the things they'll never know,
Because I'll never tell, I'll never show.
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 2:58 AM UTC
Rain, rain, go away!
Come again another day.
She sings with them 'til it's gone
Like she loves it 'til the end.
She gives them umbrella
She said she doesn't need.
And at night
before the rain gets stronger
the rain would ask her:
"Why do you keep giving happiness that isn't yours?"
And then she will weep and weep
asking herself the same thing.
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 2:36 AM UTC
It's okay to be scared.
Hide in the corner,
Cry without no one knowing,
Run as if you're saving yourself,
It's okay.
It's okay to fall and fail.
Give up and do nothing, it's okay.
It's okay to be not what you have to be.
Pretend and lie, it's okay.
It's okay.
Everything you are doing, it's okay.
It doesn't make you any less of a person.
Nobody is perfect so it's okay.
But if you want to live freely?
Live Happily.
Be happy for yourself.
Live Honestly.
Be honest to yourself.
Live Scare-free.
You have a long life ahead of you, Take Risk.
It's okay.
It'll be okay.
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 2:18 AM UTC
i killed myself.
my old self.
sometimes she likes to sneak back into the cracks in my bones,
but she's never there for long.
she knows she is not welcome there.
i killed myself.
my old self.
then i bloomed like a dandelion,
fierce and ready to conquer all.
sometimes people like to pluck me
because i'm a ****
but weeds can be flowers too if you get to know them.
m.a.l.
Apr 14, 2016
Apr 14, 2016 at 10:25 AM UTC
This is how you write a poem;
First; forget everything
You ever learnt about poems,
Such knowledge should be reserved
For the minds of critics, and
Professors in dusty halls
Of universities, where
They are dissected and re-
Constructed against their will.
Second; embroil yourself in
Love; it is the only thing
That poetry is born from.
Even the saddest songs, and
Most bitter lines, are fueled
By what we once loved. Loss is
Just a love that has been lost
And anger; a love scorned. All
your words will be born this way.
Thirdly; find a quiet spot;
It doesn't matter much where
As long as it brings comfort,
Be it an old desk in a
Darkened room, or a field of
tall Sunflowers or bluebells,
Or the last place you saw a
Loved one, before fate swept them
Away to distant valleys.
Next you must make a promise to
Yourself to be brutally
Honest. Only the truth must
Be written here. There is no
Room for flowery words that
Must be thought over to much.
If it is true it will be
Beautiful, and your pen strokes
Will guide you towards greatness.
Finally, you must hold your
Writing implement of choice
As if it were the most loved
Of possesions, or mighty
Of weapons, or a child's hand.
I cannot tell you which
But you will undoubtedly
Know which when the time comes. It
Will strike you as obvious.
Upon following these steps
You will have become a
poet. From now on there
Is no turning back. It will
Consume you, and thoughts will take
You by surprise in lover's
Embraces, in sudden deaths,
Bird songs, and the words of of those
You once thought to be strangers.
Each word will be a gift to
The world, whilst remaining un-
doubtedly yours to own.
Use your power wisely.
Remember; without love
Your poems will start to
Fall into disrepair
And, without them you will
Lose your capacity to care.
I wish you well.
I wish you poetry.
I wish you love.
Apr 6, 2016
Apr 6, 2016 at 10:11 PM UTC
Because between happiness and sadness
Every paper with my words tears in sadness.
There’s just too much to do with sadness.
You can write it everywhere.
Cry with it.
Shout the pain.
Keep the hurt.
Run away with it.
Forget it.
Look for what is lost.
Find yourself.
Fix what can be fix.
Tears with all the memories.
Regret with the wrong decisions.
Because with sadness, there’s always something on it.
Something you can hold and feel in your heart.
Something that can grow and get bigger.
But happiness don’t.
It floats with the air.
It fades with the time.
It only appears when it’s real.
You feel it in that moment.
And if you feel it tomorrow
and the next day and the next other days
that just it.
You just feel it.
And that’s good.
It makes you beautiful and lively.
But you can’t write it down the same way it feels like.
It can’t give you the same way it feels like
nomatter how many times you read it.
You can’t hold it and keep it in your heart.
Because happiness is too much of a feeling.
It can’t find its place to grow and live on you.
It only get high on you and flow.
It flows to people around you but that just it.
At the end of the day,
Happiness will always become a memories.
And memories is a sadness in the making.
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 2:10 AM UTC
“Are you okay?”
Three simple words.
You either mean them,
Or you could simply care less.
Since when do you care if something is wrong?
Are you only asking because I’m ignoring you?
You want to feel guilt free,
Like you weren’t the source of my pain.
Just leave me alone,
I don’t want to talk to you.
I don’t feel like trying to explain myself,
And I don’t have to.
Maybe I don’t even have a reason.
Maybe I’m so used to being sad all the time,
It never really goes away.
Just because I smile,
Doesn’t mean I’m okay.
Smiles can be faked,
Smiles don’t always equal happiness.
It doesn’t matter what the outside looks like,
Since I’m dying on the inside.
The answer to your question is no,
I’m not o-fucking-kay.
Why you ask?
Who knows,
I have trouble keeping track these days.
All I know is,
I’m not okay.
Mar 2, 2016
Mar 2, 2016 at 2:03 AM UTC
By loving you I learned to hate myself
In finding you I learned to lose myself
Eyes roll back into my head,
Decorated by ugly shades of red
Don't really know if I meant what I said,
If I'd rather be dead
Couldn't stop the shakes
Turned my tears into lakes
Trying to teach myself not to need you here
This is someone trying to disappear
Craving your careful stroke of my hair
That simple bliss so temporary
But in leaving you I've learned to need myself
And in forgetting you I've learned to be myself
They said life teaches you how to live it,
you just have to live long enough to get it
Feb 23, 2016
Feb 23, 2016 at 1:14 AM UTC