Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
 Aug 2016 Sierra
Stephan
.

Sunny days bring warmth
but also cast shadows

reminding me,
when I look behind
that there is only one
and it is mine

That is why
I wish for cloudy days

so I can pretend
there are two
and one of them
is her
 Aug 2016 Sierra
Macy Opsima
I am a writer, a ****** of words. I am a pen that's skipping ink but I still continue to write despite the broken lines because that's what I'm made for in the first place. Maybe the reason why I get hurt so much is that I fall in love with words a lot. I'm in love with people who is in love with literature. These poems and letters may not be made for you or because of you but their main purpose of being written is to move you. I want you to do something about that girl who works in your favorite book shop because I don't want you commiting the same regrets as I did. I want you to raise your voice and write about the oppression or the wage gap. I want you to write about something from the deepest part of your chest. I want you to write about something I cannot write about.

But some days, I feel nothing. I could write about being in love and about the color of their eyes but nowadays, their eyes look exactly the same. I could write about sadness but sadness itself is what hinders me to grab a pen. Now, I could write about happiness. But I rarely feel this way and when I feel this way, ******* I feel this way. I could gather these words about being filled with the color yellow but happiness will say that those words are not enough to fathom the euphoria I feel in me. Maybe one day, I could explore enough dictionaries to find the perfect words on what I have to say.

You don't have to be the greatest writer there is to make someone feel something through your words. Write about everything, every emotion, and every person who finds their way to your heart. When you can't write anymore, get outside and get your heart broken. Go outside and experience an experience that you never thought you would experience. Soon enough, you will write the words you never thought you would ever write. Don't hold anything other than offensive and oppressive thoughts back. Let the poetry run through your veins and drip down your fingertips. Write, write, and write until you can't write anymore. When you can't write anymore, seek a perhaps to write about then write, write, and write until you can't anymore. Even when the poem is below my satisfaction, I continue to share it anyway because being stoic and still would lead me to madness.

I am a writer, a ****** of words. I am a pen that's skipping ink and even though my lines are broken and unappealing, I continue to write anyway and because that is what I am made for in the first place.
 Jul 2016 Sierra
Alleigh Peterson
And oh, darling,
I am thankful because
I have such small hands
which can grab the pen and paper I need
to write down my untidy thoughts, like
the disarray my sheets lay in
because I didn't have the energy to make my bed this morning;
the depression comes in waves
which crash over my head and drag me down
and when I open my eyes again
I remember that I saw you in my sleep
Oh, lover, I saw you in my sleep.
Based on the song Such Small Hands by La Dispute -- the song I tried to commit suicide to a year ago. I heard it for the first time again a few minutes ago and as I sit here shaking, I decided to write.
I've been awake
since five A.M.
I went to bed
at three.
And I can't decide,
if I want her,
or a bottle of whiskey.
 Jul 2016 Sierra
Cup Noodles
VIII
 Jul 2016 Sierra
Cup Noodles
there are a million reasons why I love you
but also
no reason at all
 Jul 2016 Sierra
Mosh Microbiomes
Cigarette-smoke blowing off balconies
And off our rusty intimacy
Took your hand, took a twirl and fell
Into an ocean of what we called taboo

I never swam to get to the coast
The incalculable company I chose
I never yelled out to lend me a boat
Just felt happy going in circles with you

Promising to take me to your favourite places
I warned you about the reducing space
Holding me fiercely in front of the Sharks
You loved me like I was your favourite place

One fine day I stumble across the coast
As hysterical as a blind man who can see
But I want to again swim away with you
So I turn towards you and start drowning
Cause nobody really fell into the ocean with me.
Next page