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3d · 782
a tasteless empty word
like numbness of the fingers
like numbness of the tongue
a numbness of heart
and false plastic lungs
bland face
bland skin
bland stomach
and bland eyes
wax satisfaction
in a false candle pose
wax candle prose
by plain poet hands
I am a wax figurine poet
who writes
but bland
Feb 4 · 791
Hear Me Now,
My words could caress your ears,
and you still wouldn't hear.
"That I love you?"
"That I love you."
And I might be crazy
but when I look in your eyes
Some part of me says
You were meant to be mine.
Jan 28 · 410
Ancestral Regrets
it's my job.
to make it in life
it's my job.
to turn your wrongs into rights,
it's my job,
and I will shoulder your dishonor,
because I am your daughter.
Like a sheep bred for slaughter,
I will always be your daughter.
Jan 22 · 488
one side of the glass
The monotone mumbling of a prayer
rumbling and memorized
i hear it
in my third eye
or my third ear
what, can't you hear?
the sounds of the faithful
who pretend to be unbreakable
but are just people
who pray at the cathedral
to a marvelous person
of which the existence
is uncertain
He who created the world
and then left us to destroy it.
unpopular opinion:
we aren't really living
but we aren't really willing
to give this false life up,
you wonder,
do we live in this life
if something inspired
is on the other side
well we don't know,
we are humanity,
a mix of profanity
of hate
of ****
and a false understanding
of what we are
and what we can be
so we pray to something
that we can't see
so we are bold and confused
broken, overused.
and still we believe what we tell ourselves true
but we are just cells and atoms
remnants of cosmic dust
rejected by the universe
and I mean no offence
to those who believe in
a mighty man in the sky
but I cannot
not because I can't see him
or because I can't feel him
but because
I do not know him
and sadly
I do not wish to
call it weak
or call it strong
but I do not belong
with the saints
hung on my mother's walls
I do not belong anywhere
because I do not see
fate or luck
all I see
are the mistakes
humanity has made
and I do not know
if someone
is watching me now
write this poem
hiding behind
two sided glass
but if someone is,
I only ask of them this:
"what truly awaits us?"
a ramble
(a little controversial, and I am sorry but I just had to write like me.)
Jan 16 · 312
The boy with the gray backpack
And the girl with a tan leather jacket
Completely different
But somehow the same
Tied together
By the strings of fate
Destined for despair
But created by hope
These two may be different,
But they're bound by the same rope.
Is it love and affection,
That is bound by fate?
Or maybe instead,
We are ******* by hate.

Normally I don't speak of love, because in my family it happens to be scarce, but I thought this to be an appropriate title.
Jan 14 · 75
Umbrella tears
a never ending shower                                                                    
of water and salt                                                                

                                                    of my
                                             to the ground
                                        swallowed by the grass
                                                  and the green.
                                                one with the unseen
Jan 9 · 306
Who is to blame?
You said
the pills would make me better
and I guess they really did
because I can't seem to cry at all
but I cannot seem to live
the pills took a piece of me
something I just might want back
the pills took a piece of me
that something I now lack

I have been made sane,
but the pill is all to blame
Jan 8 · 151
Letting you go
I let you go,
Just thought you might want to know,
I'll stay here all alone

Cause' I've decided to let you go
I've seen how happy you are
When I'm not around

So I'm ready
I'm prepared to face it on my own
And I love you still, I know,

but that won't stop me from letting go
It's my fault after all,
That you lost your dreams

So I'll step back,
So you can move forward.
and though I'd hate to say goodbye,
I know that leaving you is right.
an older poem of mine
Jan 2 · 1.7k
genuine fake
My mother is like a lightbulb,
She makes her mistakes
She burns and she brightens
And then she breaks.
My mother is like a lightbulb
She brightens the room
But make no mistake,
She can darken one too,
My mother is like a lightbulb
She blunders and cries
But don't think she's harmless
It's a well crafted disguise
But regardless of it all
Someone gets hurt
Palms are cut open
And fingers are burnt
And yet,
my mother is unlike a lightbulb,
Because broken lightbulbs
are replaced.
I wish she was different,
but I try not to regret
so I guess,
I'll take what I can get.
Dec 2018 · 940
I think the wind
Stole the stars from your eyes
Because your smile is a
Distant memory,

And now all I am is lonely.
Writers block,
One of my poem drafts.
Dec 2018 · 962
You're a puzzle
a mystery to solve
both confusing and entertaining.
You keep me on my toes
I keep wondering,
whether or not
this is love.
this is
Dec 2018 · 458
Winter, not Spring.
I'd love to wax prose
about the beauty of a rose
but I  mourn the loss
of winter's frost
so I think
i'll wait
I'll wait for the trees,
so wide and tall
to abandon their leaves
in the fall
I'll wait for the sun to go down
and I'll lay around
maybe I'll get lost,
waiting for the frost.
Scrap poem
I've got such bad writers block help
Dec 2018 · 101
Sidewalk glass
i think I saw you

in the glass

on the sidewalk

i saw your eyes

and they smiled

they crinkled at the edges

i saw you wink and I laughed,

i felt my eyes sparkling

someone asked

why I was grinning

and I said

"I saw someone I missed."
I miss, something, I think.
I see it everywhere but I can't find it anymore.
Dec 2018 · 496
It hurts only a little
Like a needle to the heart
A stretched rubber band
Finally falling apart.
Dec 2018 · 1.5k
Spilled soda
Sticky on the carpet
Red and glaring
Watching me.
So I scrub
So I clean
But it doesn't go away
So I scrub
So I scream
And I watch the stain
And it watches me back.
A never-ending cycle of
and then I look down
at where I have been cleaning
and I see that my hands are bleeding
that the blood is not my own
and then I start screaming
I might be insane,
or sick of the mind,
but my nightmares,
don't always happen at night.
I wonder.
if I had a heart
would I know where to find it?
without a heart
who am i?
because I have no heart
there is empty space
where it should be,
but maybe
maybe it's lost
maybe I gave it up
without noticing
or maybe
I never had a heart,
to begin with
you complete me.

Now read it from the bottom to the top
you complete me.
Dec 2018 · 378
New eyes
You're so quiet now
But they say silence is golden,
So I'll just leave you alone.
Look through the eyes of those who want to help,
but just don't know how to.
Nov 2018 · 610
Human Dishonesty
✦      .   ·   ✦       ✵ .     *    
the silence of the moon
   ˚ .      ✦   ˚ ✦ ·      + .       .    ✵ · ⋆           . ✫ ✵           . .  ✷  * · · . ✵ .    ·
⋆   .
   ˚ .      ✦   ˚ ✦ ·      + .  is timeless
and I wish  ⋆   .
   ˚ .      ˚  ·      + .  
⋆   .
   ˚ .      ✦   ˚ ·      + .  for a minor second
✦   + .   *       .   ·          ✵ .      *     ⋆ .  . *
   ˚ .      .   ✦    ⋆   . *    ˚ .       ˚  ·      + .  
that I was more
  + .   *    .   .   ·   ✦       ✵ .      *     ⋆   . *    + .       .    ✵ · ⋆           . ✫ * · · . ✵ .    ·
⋆   . *
   ˚ .         ˚  ·      + .  than a speck
of human dishonesty ⋆   .
   ˚ .         ˚  ·      + .  
⋆   .
   ˚ .         ˚  ·      + .  and instead+ *.   *    ✷   .   ·   ✦       ✵     *     ⋆   . *
a star
fallen from
the sky.
what are we
dust of the cosmos?
Nov 2018 · 263
lorem ipsum
Nolite esse sicut me.
Nov 2018 · 497
when you tell the world.
what you hide

when you tell them
that you want to die

they'll laugh and say
"death is inevitable"

and "we all die someday"
they say with a smile

"the human species was

not meant to last for a while."
In the end
death is the last friend
that we will ever see
Nov 2018 · 809
TᕼOSE ᗯITᕼOᑌT ᗩ ᗷOᗪY
ᕼᗩᐯE ᑎO ᕼEᗩᖇT
IᑎSTEᗩᗪ ᕼᗩᐯE ᗩ SOᑌᒪ
I ᗯᗩS TᕼIᑎKIᑎG ᗩᗷOᑌT TᕼE Eᑎᗪ, ᗩᑎᗪ ᗯᕼᗩT ᕼᗩᑭᑭEᑎS ᗩᖴTEᖇ.

I ᗯOᑎᗪEᖇ ᗯᕼEᖇE ᗯE GO ᗯᕼEᑎ ᗯE ᗩᖇE ᖴIᑎᗩᒪᒪY ᖴᖇEE?
Nov 2018 · 4.8k
*      ·   
   ✦                      . ˚   
                                                          ✦      · .
  ·     . .   *    *  . * .         ·
·           ·✷ *              +     ·   ⊹  . ˚  ˚    ˚     * . who will mourn the world ˚
+   ·  when there is nothing left?+                ˚
+   ·        *   ✺ ˚ ⊹           ✵      ˚ +    . .          ˚    ✷ ·  .   .       · *      ⊹   . ⋆ ˚
*       *      ·   
   ✦                      . ˚
·           ·✷ *                  +     · ✵           ✫    * .      * .  .
I felt like space
so so alone
Nov 2018 · 604
Living Corpse
Knock on my skull
you'll hear no reply
cause I've been empty
my whole life
and that hasn't changed
I'm just a living corpse
and I can't hear you anyway
so wave my lifeless hands
make me seem more alive
force my lips into a smile
make me nod my head
will you ever be satisfied?
with the corpse half-alive?
it's a miracle they say
the corpse now alive
"look at her!"
"she even smiles!"
but go right ahead
knock on my skull
but you
will hear
no answer
What a time it is
to be a corpse
pretending to
Nov 2018 · 666
Mental Illness
I went to the doctor
and I accepted the pills
because they all said I was different

They said something wasn't "right"
and I accepted the pills
I didn't put up a fight

but when I asked the doctor why

The doctor just stared
and I finally began to see
that the sickness was me
I was talking to my medical teacher,
and she spoke about Mental Illness
and it took me a second to realize
that she was talking about me.
Nov 2018 · 86
Found again (haikus)
I think I felt it
but I'm not sure where it went
a little glimmer

A bit of a shine
in the darkness of the mind
a bright sparkling hope

something abandoned
something that was left behind
but now I've found it
but now I've found it again
Nov 2018 · 752
Abstinence (reversible)
no such thing as abstinence
just one sip and then that's it
drink from the bottle
sell your soul
and smile
just have a taste
they tell me
Nov 2018 · 235
day 1
day one on the pill
is narrow and deep
I can't seem to sleep
and I can't seem to eat
my dreams are empty
and the future is bleak
so maybe that's why
my pills taste so sweet
The beginning of a short series of poems written
following my journey through writing
and antidepressants.
Oct 2018 · 83
Human nature
Humanity is a cesspool
A bottomless pit of emotion
Love and hate,
Fear and courage,
And above the darkness
A leaky faucet dangles
Many a drop leak
Into the pit of humanity
Without a sound
Without a splash
Swallowed up
By the dark
As is human nature.
There is so little to loose
In this human cesspool.
The soul is a bottomless pit of emotion.
writers block is killing me
Oct 2018 · 562
Just break my heart
silly silly straight girl
doesn't see till it's too late girl
break the broken fake girl
take and take it's okay girl
fake it till you break girl
break it till you make it girl
not quite not quite so so straight girl
but now it's far too late girl
sorry sorry straight girl
just take it take it all girl
break and break my heart girl
silly silly straight girl
I'm done waiting girl.
yuck yuck I don't like this one
Oct 2018 · 1.7k
She gave everything
And he gave nothing
“Nothing.” He replied
“Yes, Nothing.” She agreed
And that was that
So nothing it would be.
a little ramble
I've been having writers block
Oct 2018 · 181
Is something not lightly given
So you might want to listen

If I tell you I'm not OK
'Cause that's not the easiest thing to say

So maybe trust that
I know what I'm feeling

And maybe
Trust me
To know me
never dismiss someone's feelings
Oct 2018 · 92
a fix
I was red,
I was ******,
fear and desperation

drove me to self hatred
and I hid from the world
and loathed the high expectations

"You should be perfect
like the stars in the sky
not lost and broken

like a cracking china doll
you should be gold
and shining

so paint over the red
replace it with white
the same pale as a pill

a bottle filled to the brim
with many a fix
but once you're fixed

It's hard to learn
how to feel again
cause if you're perfect like the stars

why feel anything anymore?
e m p t y
Oct 2018 · 303
· *   .  ˚    .
I no longer feel
· *   .  ˚    . the pen in my hand
the itch in my fingers · *   .  ˚    .
Has slipped through my grasp
⋆ * . ✵ +   · *   .  ˚    .   . * ✧
Why has my heart
my soul
stopped speaking to me
· *   .  ˚    . I guess you could say
I've lost all my feeling · *   .  ˚    .
✺  . . ✫  * ✵ .  ˚    · ✵
I've gone blind
· *   .  ˚    . while still seeing
devoid of touch · *   .  ˚    .
✫  ✦ ✵   ✦ . ·         ✵   . ✧✵ *     
perpetually reaching
· *   .  ˚    . for something
for anything · *   .  ˚    .
. · *   .  ˚    .              ✫         · .       ✧ ⋆  
· *   .  ˚    . to let me
feel again · *   .  ˚    .
· *   .  ˚    .Is that star looking at me?
Or is it avoiding me? · *   .  ˚    .
(Heize – Star)
Sep 2018 · 394
Sun and rain
I remember when I was little
I would love the sun
I looked at it every day
and my sister always said
I would cry when it went away
and when I would cry
my dad,
he would just sit by me
and tell me about the moon
and the stars
and he would smile
then one night
I remember asking
if he would go
like the sun did,
so he promised,
that as long the sun was in the sky
he would stay,
and the sun never left,
and my dad was still around,
but rain comes,
and no matter how you prepare,
no matter if you know ahead of time,
rain still falls,
and the sun goes away
and so did my dad,
but the sun came back
and he did not.
Is there anything that shines as much as you?
What if you can’t hear my song
Because you’re too far away?
What I’m looking at
Is that you?
(Heize – Star)
Sep 2018 · 274
Dreams (haikus)
orange and soft leaves
like golden beautiful things
like shining new dreams

sweet cold frosted glass
like cold frosted broken things
cold cold broken dreams

clear like a moonbeam
or other bright empty things
sweet like empty dreams
Sep 2018 · 124
I don't want to be fixed
i don't want to be fixed
i just want to stay broken
you don't need to care

you don't need to stay,
but I want to stay broken
and I refuse to be fixed

i won't hurt anyone
i just want to be sad
so don't give me pills

don't give me lies
just to "make me feel better"
cause' I want to stay broken

and I'm sorry
but I can't be fixed
and that's ok with me.
I don't want to be fixed
oh I just want to be alone
so don't give me your pills,
or your lies,
however sweet they may be,
just let me live my life,
cause' I don't need to be fixed.
Sep 2018 · 197
happy is a good look on you
that glowing smile on your face
like you've just won a race
like you've won first place
but you haven't
and you smile anyway
how do you do it?
just smile your way through it,
like you know that
happy is a good look on you
Late night thoughts
Sep 2018 · 511
No shame in sadness
Why do we debate about
The validness
Of sadness
When we could
Be moving forwards
Instead of falling backwards
We could be helping each other
Holding those who've lost another
If we let ourselves be held down
By harsh words and disapproving frowns
How will we ever get back up again?
And I know someone in life will tell you 'no'
Saying that they've been through worse, fifty or some years ago
But they don't know what you've lost
They don't know who broke your heart
No they don't know you, and they don't know me
So instead of being what the world wants to see
Why can't we just be?
Sadness should not not be compared and measured
It should be accepted.
yellow carnations
growing in my broken heart
wilting carnations

and yellow roses,
an empty apology
sitting by a grave

sweet yellow roses
and soft broken carnations
are whats left of us
You gave me yellow carnations and roses,
and I gave you everything.

A yellow carnation means rejection or “you have disappointed me”
A yellow rose can stand for friendship and apologies
Sep 2018 · 776
A poets day
Poetry comes at the end of the day
When the lights are turned low
And the sun goes away

A poet writes best in the mid-afternoon
With birds in the trees
and mud on the boots

A poet rises in the morning
Even if it might be storming
Oh we write in the rain, if it be pouring

A poet thinks in the evenings
Because we write better when dreaming
And because sometimes
it's better than sleeping

A poet cherishes every part of their day
Beacause each one is never the same.
Writing poetry means you can leave the ground
And never have to come back down
Aug 2018 · 297
R o t t e n S o u l
i, i feel bad sometimes,
like a faulty machine
empty and clicking,
missing a piece.
and when look back on my poetry
i don't like what i see
i feel broken,
i feel guilty
i feel
r o t t e n
a decaying soul
hurting because
to feel better
i have to put my sad
on someone else
everyone else,
g u i l t
lock it all away
until i can let it out
in letters
and rhymes
but i still
feel like a burden
i apologise
for my rotten soul
weighing you all down.
You don't deserve to drown in it.
Like I do.
I confide in my poetry, but I can't confide in others, I am sorry for mostly posting about being sad, I wish I could write about something happy or in between but I just feel too empty.
Aug 2018 · 232
The silence (haikus)
Drown in the silence
Hear how it fills up your head
And then the quiet

It swallows the mind
Untill there is nothing left
But the dead silence.

Depression is like silence
You pretend it's not there
But slowly and surely

It cuts off all your air
Silence is golden,
Bright like a fire,

And in turn,
Silence can burn
Aug 2018 · 258
Sorry dad.
I hope you know
That I'll never forget
When you said you didn't want me around
So, I distanced myself
Like you wanted,

You said it was 'odd' knowing me
You said I was a lot of things
But I'll give you your space
Because I don't think I deserve to occupy it,

And I know someone would tell you,
That you were in the wrong
But it's just my job
To grin and bear it,

And be the little girl
you want so badly to see
So I'll take a little ****
I'll live with it

Because you don't want me around,
And I just want to make you proud.
I know this is a little sloppy but I just wanted to get some sad out. God I haven't cried in so long. I think I needed it.
Aug 2018 · 518
S a d
perfer it
If you turned
on your heel and
just walked away
And I'm not 'tired'
I don't 'hate you'
I just can't let
you see
        I can't             let you see
            when I                   feel like dying
    I need                         the quiet
     To fix up                             my feelings
     To stitch                              up my cuts
       To fix                            my heart
   With clear                       plastic tape
the only
way I can
ever apear
'happy' So
give me
some space
So maybe, I
won't have
to worry,
about the
“There are two types of people in the world: those who prefer to be sad among others, and those who prefer to be sad alone.”

- Nicole Krauss
Jul 2018 · 590
A memory
I distinctly remember
One day in the end of April
One minute
One second
Of laughter
And mockery
Three girls
One with scars
On her wrists
And the other two
With cheshire grins
Chanting and mocking
"Oh little girl?"
"Do you want to die?"
"Why didn't you finish the job?"
Leering smirks and wild eyes
And I
I remember
Looking at my scars
Looking at my wrists
Asking myself
If it ever ends
Or if it ever begins
And then I stood up
I stood and I looked
At the girl with scars
I took her hand
We walked away.
I wish I could have done more.
Jul 2018 · 1.3k
This. Is. Me.
What do you believe in?
Do you believe in the sky?
Do you believe in the things that pass you by?
Do you believe the answers they tell you, when you ask 'why'?
Do you believe in truths or in lies?
Are you able to see when someone isn't fine?
Do you believe in always being right?
Never giving up when you've started a fight?
Do you believe in an all holy light?
Or rather do you believe in an never-ending night?
Do you look at the world and whisper
"Hey, this is right."
Or instead do you wish you had another life?
Do you wish you were 'nice'?
Or do you warp your sight,
And believe that everything will just be alright?
Do you work day and night
To keep your money airtight?
Or do you give and you work
For what you think is right?
Do you hate yourself because
someone with a small mind
went up and told you
the way you are wasn't fine?
Do you look in the mirror
And regret what you see?
Or do you look in the mirror
And shout
Never put yourself down because of who you are.
You are beautiful, you are unique, and you all inspire me.
Jul 2018 · 866
What we cherish.
A box of envelopes waits on the desk
Open and lonley,
Torn at the ends
Ripped apart in fear,
Or maybe hope,
All to get to a weathered old note.
The box is abandoned,
I guess you could say,
It's broken and empty,
made to throw away,
But there the shreds still sit,
Loved and worn,
Weathered and ripped
Letters we've loved
And letters we'll miss
Whispers of the past
Scribbled away on parchment
Inked in every color
Loved in every way,
We box them away
And then we say
That in time
We'll throw them away
But there they still sit,
There they wait
Wrinkled paper and ink stains
They wait to be held
They wait to be remembered
So they sit,
And they wait
That box of
empty envelopes
love letters
We hold onto love with an iron grip.
Jul 2018 · 237
I'd like to pretend that I'm not afraid
Of the dancing images in my brain,
But all of my fear it shows up as hate
And like my fear, I can't hide my face
I've heard that living is hard
And I don't want to start
So I'll just stay where it's safe.
A little rhyming poem I thought up.
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