Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Katelynn Oct 18
There lives a dragon in my stomach.
That pokes and prods with every scale.
With heat from it’s flames that leave skin blushed.
A bloated squeezing growing from the lack of room.

I check my stomach daily.
Searching for holes and bruises,
My hands running over bear skin amazed.
And yet, I feel it now,
Playing chess up my spine,
Each claw catching as it climbs up my vertebrae.
Leaving chills and goosebumps in it’s passing.

I’ve cried out for help.
Wanting nothing more from this beast.
But it leaves nightmares with it’s presence.
And it’s wings make perfect walls.

People just get tired after a while.
Just “the boy who cried wolf,”
But as I spout more words to them scrambling for help.
I see the smoke pillowing out of my mouth.
And before I could question,
We were both just as blinded.

I have a dragon and my stomach.
Years spent together like bitter friends.
Growing used to the burn of it’s hugs.
Even dousing the flames on my own at times.
A begrudging compromise.

Now overtime the beast grew too.
Spending more of it’s passing as a shadow over my shoulders.
Even with much less hold on me than before.
It still watches with delight.
Some days weighing like a backpack of bricks.
Whispering in my ear, coaching. Letting smoke fill my head, confusing.
Most other days are more bearable.

At night the beast stays on my chest.
Like a scaly tiger it curls on top,
With a kneading purr as it settles.
I never quite remember sleeping these nights.
Flashes of tossing and turning from being uncomfortable.
Poking, and prodding, and burning, and now chilling, and now waking up sweating.
The fog only clearing after spending time awake.

Alas there is a dragon in my stomach.
A spiteful beast that took hold there.
With greetings just like an old friend.
And when I finally demanded it’s name.


“Trauma” the beast told me.
I’m amazed that I wrote this. Comments are appreciated and I hope you random stranger have a nice day.
Sep 28 · 20
I miss writing
Katelynn Sep 28
Like genuinely
I miss it

I made this hello poetry account back when I was a sophomore in high school thinking I was cool writing the poems that I had and letting all those words out.

I’d say it helped. At least a little bit.

But all this pain and suffering I wrote and how the sunshine and rainbows came in the end are complete bull.

I haven’t written a poem since Serendipity and that person still shines love in my life when every other person just left.

Im terrified of my future.
Yet I’ve never been more intrigued.
But in the end I’m just really tired.

Never loose your love of writing.
Never let your words stop flowing from your head.

Cause one day those words won’t make sense anymore.
And I forgotten why I’m here in the first place.
Thank you.
Nov 2020 · 511
You Are My Serendipity
Katelynn Nov 2020
You are my serendipity
You are the one who entered my life unexpected
Guns blazing
It was like you fought your way
Without even lifting a finger

You are amazing
In the way with one touch
I can feel your love
Crackling like electricity
As it shoots from my body
Just pure breathtaking love

You are beautiful
Even when you think it least
Because you see the least
I see the sparkle in your eye
When we look at each other at night
Even with it pitch black
I can still see your eyes
Shining open to my heart

Darlings you are more than you think
From the kindness of your heart
To the softness of your touch
You able to calm the strongest storm
With just the slightest hug
You my dear are truly lovely

For it was you
Who taught me love again
That it could exist
That it could be healthy
That love could be shared even to the meanest of people
But still take no ****
And that is why I love again

You are my serendipity
Full of love and warmed
Unexpected but greatly welcomed
I love you with all of my heart
And I can’t wait for what lurks ahead

For you
My love is eternal





You twatt waffle <3
I’m going to be honest. I wrote this poem one of the first times I got high and I don’t even remember writing this. I do know however the feeling behind this. This unfiltered/unedited poem is about my love. He came into my life so unexpectedly but I wouldn’t change that for the world. I love you Cyan Sus <3
Oct 2020 · 243
I Cannot Give Anymore
Katelynn Oct 2020
I cannot give anymore
With the words in my brain
That call me insane
That makes me feel pain
Something I can not explain
I cannot give anymore

My heart is too big
But that’s not enough
My mind is too sick
Alone that is rough
My lungs that hold air
Are hard to compare
To make me aware
That I am still there

They say you are useful
When you are around
Filling their needs
Even when you are drowned
With water in lungs
Your heart on your sleeve
Tears that leave stains
You mind locked in chains
I cannot give anymore

And though my light is dim
And my life seems grim
A breath of fresh air
A break from despair
Where things seem calm
Time ticks like a bomb
I remember a day
A reason to stay

I cannot give anymore
A light that was dim
Shot off on a whim
Filling with light
Starting a fight
My lungs fill with air
My brain starts to care
Winning the war
I know I can say



I can give more
This poem is for the people that are empathetic. A person with high empathy just gives more and more even with they have none themselves. Feeling the energies of others they cannot help giving more. Just a big heart in a cruel world.
Mar 2020 · 2.1k
Eighteen Years
Katelynn Mar 2020
I am eighteen years old.
That doesn't seem like a lot,
But to me,
It is everything.

Eighteen years is all I've ever known.
Even if I died tomorrow,
Still eighteen.
While that might not seem like much to you.
You are probably not eighteen.

Despite my age,
I have been through a lot.
Some say more than most,
Even then those who are older.

At eight years old I lost my dad.
At eleven years old I lost my mom.
At eighteen years old,
I've learned to be okay with that.

Between eleven and thirteen I was abused.
I eventually escaped and was safe again.
At eighteen years old I am still in fear of this sometimes,
But I am working on that.

At seventeen years old I applied for college.
I was accepted and excited to go.
At eighteen years old I dropped out.
All of the anxiety and illnesses became too much,
But I am working on that.

For eighteen years I've dealt with mental illness.
Currently being called Bipolar,
Manic and depressive episodes are common,
But I am working on that.

In the past eighteen years,
I've learned new things.
I've learned who to trust,
And who to believe.
However,
I am still working on the difference between them.

In eighteen years I've learned to let go.
Toxic or not.
Family or not.
Just letting grudges be free.
I'm still working on that.

In eighteen years I've learned skills.
With the musicals I've been in.
With my writing continuing.
Even better at communicating now.

But yet I am eighteen.
With time hopefully left,
Leaving room to gain new experiences,
Because eighteen isn't a lot.

But I do thank eighteen.
For all that it has taught me.
From being confident,
To being reassured,
And everything in between.

Because I am almost nineteen.
And nineteen is a lot.
This poem is about despite being eighteen I have been through a lot but knowing it is only getting started and I can't wait to see what nineteen has in store soon.
Jan 2020 · 179
Ignorance is bliss
Katelynn Jan 2020
Sometimes when people describe mental illness,
not all can see,
how ignorance is bliss,
how some live carefree.

"Oh well you are sad"
For that is true,
but there is a difference,
from a feeling of blue,
to a weight smothering Depression.

"Oh you can't focus"
For that is true,
but there is a difference,
from hyper and happy,
to a confused, controlling ADHD.

"Oh you are just worried"
For that is true,
but there is a difference,
from caring too much,
to an intense panic and fear of Anxiety.

"Oh well you are just moody"
For that is true,
but there is a difference,
from just being tired or hangry,
to an uncontrollable scream called Bipolar.

It could be the voices of Schizophrenia,
of the vomiting of Bulimia,
but you would not see,
how hard we try to flee.

You are blessed to be healthy,
never fearing your mind,
or how you could be so blind,
to us walking a fine line.

But don't get me wrong,
I am wishing you well,
because I know how,
you would never want hell.

So I applaud your ability,
your ignorance so bliss,
of all you will miss,
ignoring all of this.

So until you learn,
or at least understand,
we are not so bland,
while you live a life so grand.
People with healthy minds and those with mental illnesses tend to live a whole different life from one another.
Jan 2020 · 691
A letter to me
Katelynn Jan 2020
A letter to me.
Not the younger me,
or the older me,
but me.
The one fighting today.

It's a letter to my hands,
for all they have created,
many ideas that have flourished,
even this poem made elated.

It's a letter to my feet,
for all they have carried,
standing when I fall,
rising when I am buried.

Even a letter to my eyes or ears,
for everything they've seen or heard,
grateful for what has been blocked out,
creating room for more that is cured.

These key parts of me,
while I could thank them more,
help me through the day,
even when I am sore.

Just a letter to my body,
forgiveness I would wish,
for all the scars and shame,
that I will never miss.

Forgive me for not loving you,
the way I know I should,
one day you will know,
of all how much I could.

It's a letter to my mind,
a place that is haunted,
whispers that beg,
wishing to only be wanted.

I've cursed you daily,
wanting you to be better,
but never really thinking,
until I wrote this letter.

Yes you can be bad,
yes you can be sick,
but you are still my mind,
and that is something that will stick.

But sometimes you have thoughts,
that are wild and free,
creating ideas,
that can fill will glee.

So for that you are wanted,
for all I take for granted,
for staying by my side,
for not leaving me stranded.

As I get older,
and the more that I see,
on how I should not treat my body,
so pitifully.

Though it has its flaws,
a bad day,
a rough night,
I will always say,
that I need to treat it right.

So this is a letter to me,
the one living today,
to never forget,
why things are this way.

For my body is not perfect,
and neither is my mind,
but it always teaches me lessons,
on how to always be kind.
Writing this poem I tend to sit back and realize how poorly I treat myself sometimes. Everyone has these moments whether cursing a bad hair day or wishing for a reality that isn't true. Reading this poem I hope to take time and realize though I may not love my body fully today that one day I will for all that it have done and yet to do.
Jan 2020 · 265
Attempting to sleep
Katelynn Jan 2020
When I close my eyes
And try to sleep
Attempting to rest
Letting my dreams meet

I can't stand the quiet
The unsettling silence
When my mind is restless
But the world is silent

My mind races
With ideas that aren't true
With visions that won't happen
With words that weren't spoken

But I lay there
Listening to my mind
As my body lays still
But my mind still screams

Why should I think
Of things that aren't true
Letting my nightmares haunt me
Dealing with constant restlessness

But you came
Unexpected and fast
I have whiplash from your kindness
Words I have never heard before

But as I lay there
Tightly in your arms
I feel comfort
For once I feel safe

My mind stays silent
Even without the rain
Without the fan
It's still quiet

Instead I listen to you
How your chest rises and falls
How your heart begins to settle
Even your sighs of contempt

Everything is still new
And I'm afraid
But when you just hold me
I've never felt this safe

I do not know what love is
Never having the feeling in my chest
But when I lay here with you
I feel I'm at my best

Thank you my love I know that will soon bloom
Starting a relationship unexpectedly is scary especially never being in one before. I've never been in love but being around them I have no doubt I could be one day. But fear still reins in my heart crushing the idea of it but when they hold me tight I feel safe and chains gripping me loosen. I don't doubt that one day I could love this person. One day my love will bloom.
Jan 2020 · 197
First love?
Katelynn Jan 2020
You ask if I love you?
I simply reply I don’t know.
How could one really know,
I’d love truly lies where lust hides.

Do I love you,
When you hold me tight,
When our lips touch,
Or when our bodies connect.

Do I love you,
When I sneak glances,
When I listen intently,
Or when I feel that I can’t get enough.

But when we are together,
My heart flutters,
My hands shake,
I feel tingly.
I feel special.

But you ask my if I love you,
I still can’t respond.
Is it me being with you?
Or being apart of you?

When the heat rushes,
When my legs shake,
**** I know I’ll be sore in the morning,
But that isn’t love.

Love shouldn’t be afraid.
Love shouldn’t be hidden.
It’s shouldn’t be shameful,
Or questioned.

But I guess it doesn’t matter either way.

Because you never asked me if I loved you in the first place.
Going through life I have never experience my chance at having my first love yet. I wrote this poem when I was finally with someone for the first time believing that I could love them and they everything would be okay. It didn’t work out but having these questions in this poem was a real eye opener for me into discovering what I really needed. And it wasn’t him.
Mar 2019 · 567
Dear Younger Me
Katelynn Mar 2019
If I could write to the past
Of all that has happened
Of all of what I went through
Of how everything happened so fast

So this to you
To the younger me
To the innocence
That no longer consumes me

Dear younger me
Of all the things I want to tell you
Words can not explain enough
Of what actually happened

Dear younger me
Would I tell how you will go through so much
So much pain
So much heartache
But you will come out so much stronger

Dear younger me
Would I think to tell you the truth
Of all those you will lose
Those who you thought would be there
But now are left confused


Dear younger me
Would I tell you of the places you will travel
Some creating your best memories
Or how others will still leave you up at night

Dear younger me
Oh how I want to protect you
To keep you shielded
From the dark

Dear younger me
Oh how I want to warn you
Of the dangers that lurk
Even in the most trusting smile

Dear younger me
With how much I would give
To be back in your shoes
Even just for a moment

But if even given a moment
I would change nothing

Dear younger me
You will go through hell and back
You will cry some nights until you fall asleep
You will witness things you wish you had never witness
You will try to die at your lowest moments at the age of 13

But do not be frighten

Dear younger me
While you are going through so much
While you feel left in the dark
That you have hit rock bottom
You will rise
Stronger than you have before

Dear younger me
While our life is not over yet
You will meet amazing people
Those who love you
When others wouldn’t

Dear younger me
You will see amazing things
Color brighter than you have before
You will feel peace at times

Dear younger me
Things are never perfect
But you will make it
You are better than you once imagined

Dear younger me
For all the things you wished you were told
For all the things you wished you had done
Even now
I wouldn’t change them for a younger me
Here lately i've been thinking about my past, which is never a good thing. I was givin the insperation for this poem by the song Dear Younger Me by MercyMe. Listening to that song over and over again made me think what would I say if I could write to myself ten years ago. 7 year old me. An innocent child who had no idea what challeges that would be thrown at her. But I grew stronger, and those tough challenges and decisions made me who I am today.
Jan 2019 · 268
Why do I write?
Katelynn Jan 2019
Why do I write? Well technically I’m not actually writing, I’m typing. Anyhow I write for many different reasons. I write to share ideas, to change perspective, but I mainly write for myself. I write for myself because writing(typing) helps me understand myself. I know it sounds crazy sometimes but when I am for once able to put meaning into my words I am able to understand parts of myself better. Some people don’t understand. How could someone possibly not understand themselves? It’s reasonable to understand that. I always know what I am feeling most of the time. However trying to take my feelings and put them into words tends to be a struggle for me. Like I can’t find the right words in the proper order to try and explain myself. Sometimes things don’t need explaining. That’s is why I write poetry. In poetry things don’t need to make since, unlike all the college essays that I have to write that scream about grammar and punctuation. Poetry is just a feeling by itself. Letting the rhythm of the words just flow. It doesn’t always make sense but that isn’t the point. The point is does it have meaning? When someone reads poetry do the feel something deep within or are they just zoning out and reading just to read. Reading poetry is like playing a melody in your head. You can hear all the different notes, when they stop, and when they go. You can create a symphony of words with the letters being your orchestra. Some may criticize, they always will, and try to make it seem that your work is less important that it is. But it isn’t. What makes your work important is the feeling that you get from it when you finish. That feeling of relief when you finally let everything bottled up inside you go, or the tears that spill because the damage that was made and the only way to heal is letting out all of these words in your head go. When writing there are no limits, no criteria. It’s just you and your brain piecing together parts of yourself you hadn’t realized that was there before.

And that is why I write.
This is just what I call a word ***** that I had once day, and I just wanted to write. These words are unedited and I didn't allow myself to backspace on any of it. So they may be some spelling errors and there are definitely some grammer erros. This is just pure words, typing as I am thinking. Truely my definition of a word *****.
Jan 2019 · 233
Girls in Society
Katelynn Jan 2019
Sometimes when people see her,
They see the good little girl,
That sits down,
That’s quite,
And does what she is told.

The girl that doesn’t want trouble,
That’ll snitch at the sound of danger.
The girl that does all of her work on time,
That fears anything below an A.

Sometimes when people see her,
They see the loud girl,
That doesn’t know when to keep her mouth shut,
Whether she’s talking to her friends,
Or when she’s firing off a sarcastic remark.

The girl that’ll throw words,
If you dare dis her family.
The girl that’ll catch hands,
If you dare push her.

They do not like this loud girl,
She should stay quite,
Know her place,
Fall in line.

But they do not like the good girl either,
She should open up,
Let loose for once,
Stand on her own two feet.

People seem to always decide,
What this girl should be.
Not the girl herself,
To show what she believes.

But it is like this with every girl.
They are all either:
Too tall,
Too short,
Too skinny,
Too fat.

These girls face constant battle,
On what they should,
And should not do.
But no one ever asks what the girls might think.

Instead the girls will live,
With these rules forced to swallow.

But soon the girls will rise,
And everyone will soon follow.
In society many girls are pressed in ideas by others on what and who they should be. People today do not like good little girls because they are considered prudes and ingnorant. However people do not like the loud girls because they're b-words and obnoxious. There are toxic images for boys too, not just girls. Overall I believe that there will be a day where the old sterotypical toxic images will come to an end, for both girls and boys.
Dec 2018 · 223
Choose
Katelynn Dec 2018
You made me choose,
A choice that wasn’t fair,
One that is hard to bare,
But you didn’t care.

We were best friends,
Funny how things end.
How being thick as thieves,
Until one got caught.

You made me choose,
Made me question my faith,
In our friendship,
In my spiritual relationship.

For once I had cried,
confused on what to do,
Wanting to listen to them,
Only to tell of corruption.

When I gave you my answer,
You may have been stunned,
You may have been confused,
But I didn’t stay around.

When my faith is tested,
In what I believe is true,
I surround myself in love,
From one who is untested.

But I will not be bitter,
And I will wish you farewell.
But I know that those who love me,
Would not have me dwell.

Maybe I have been corrupted,
But only by one who loves me so.
Because I know when time ends,
He’ll be the one calling me home.

And I will choose him over you anyday.
Not that long ago someone who I thought was a dear friend of mine made me choose between my religion and them. Being told by a couple of people that I was corrupted, and that I had changed for the worse. I had to learn that these people were not my friends because I for a fact know I have changed for the better. And I will gladly choose God over them anyday of the week, because I know only true love comes  from him.
Nov 2018 · 226
You are the person
Katelynn Nov 2018
You are the person,
That one would write poems about.
You are the person,
That would fill thoughts late at night.

The one who’s eyes light up,
Like a galaxy in the sky.
The one who’s laughter,
Would just make you want to fly.

You’re are the person,
Who’s smile so beautiful,
It’s enchanting.
You are the person,
That could warm the heart,
Of the coldest winter breeze.

But you don’t see this person.
You keep them locked in a cage,
Believing they’ve never existed.
But for me it’s not true.

You are my person,
That I would scream to the rooftops for.
You are my person,
That I would break any wall for.

You don’t understand,
How beautiful you are.
But one day you’ll see,
How I’ve always seen.

You are my person,
Who makes my world complete.
Everyone has a person that they hold very dear to their heart. This person doesn’t always see how wonderful that they are. All we can do is hope one day they’ll see how wonderful as we see them as.
Sep 2018 · 1.5k
You told me today
Katelynn Sep 2018
You told me today,
That you wanted to die.
I could tell in your voice,
That it wasn’t a lie.

I never noticed till now,
Of how you fidgeted more.
I never noticed till now,
Of the sweaters you now wore.

But I did noticed now,
How your skin seemed pailer,
How your eyes darker.
Have you been eating?
Have you even been sleeping?

But when you told me,
I finally saw.
The darkness that surrounds you.
When did you start to fall?

Why didn’t I noticed,
That your smile missed your eyes.
Why didn’t I noticed,
That your voice told such lies.

If I had noticed sooner,
Would this had ever happened.
If I had noticed sooner,
Would you had never saddened.

I screamed for you,
Wanting it to not be true,
I cried for you,
Though I didn’t have a clue.

I waited for you,
For you to react,
But the mirror stayed still,
My image intact.
Though this poem is in depth about me, I have in the past, and have seen others struggle with suicidal tendencies. I hope that anyone going through this will reach out to others because you are worth it and you deserve to be here. The suicide hotline is 1-800-273-8255, please contact this if you need help, because you deserve to have help.
Aug 2018 · 548
Senior Year
Katelynn Aug 2018
It’s our final year,
Of high school here,
Then soon we’ll leave our mark,
To make a world of our own.

Though we are just a speck,
Drifting through time.
It seems through all these years,
Gone in just a flash of light,
That moved way too fast.

We’ve made it through the stress,
And moments of being depressed.
Now we are waiting for our moment,
Where we will be best dressed.

Some will apply to move forward,
And others prefer to stay,
But we all will make decisions,
To make our own way.

Ordering our gowns,
Removing our frowns,
Planning for prom,
Not realizing,
How much we might miss mom.

But until that day,
Here we’ll stay,
Waiting for our taste of freedom.


But until that day,
Here we’ll stay,
To a new chapter,
To a story that has just begun.
Now that I am a few days into my senior year of high school, I can't wait till it's over. But I have to remember that I should really relish in this school year because it only happens once.
Aug 2018 · 351
Today's the day
Katelynn Aug 2018
Today’s the day,
I will no longer pretend,
That everything is fine,
When it is not really fine.

Today’s the day,
When I stop caring,
About all the doubts in the world,
And the problems that uncurled.

Today’s the day,
That I will finally love me,
No matter what they say,
I will finally be free.

Today’s the day,
I will finally be happy,
Without a care in the world,
Nothing can hold me down.

But today’s the day,
You remind,
That all those years ago,
How they are not the same.

But today’s the day,
Where I had to remember,
Of how I couldn’t forget,
What you had said.

But today’s the day,
Where my fear haunts me,
As it has days before,
Taking my every breath.

But that’s okay,
Isn’t it?
As they say,
There’s always,

Tomorrow.
Sometimes dealing with a mental illness some days are great, not a care in the world. Everything can be going great, but then there's a wave. Like a strong ocean wave crashing on the shore, it knocks you right off your feet. You never even saw it coming, but it was there, waiting for the moment to strike. But even if there is a bad day, there is always tomorrow for a better start.
May 2018 · 361
Back home
Katelynn May 2018
I’m back home

No
I’m back where I grew up

I saw the house today
The house that I grew up in
The house where you left me
The house that is no longer mine

I’m seeing an old friend tomorrow
Used to be thicker than thieves
Where nothing could ever stop us
And now we are strangers

But don’t get me wrong
I missed my family
That I live so far from
I wouldn’t miss this chance for the world

The fear is still there
Of turning the corner seeing you there
On the road
Colder than ice

The pain still exist
In holidays
In birthdays
On deaths days

Relationships that were once so close
Are now broken
Minds were once healthy
Are now scarred

Did you ever think
About what would happen
If you got on that bike

Of course you didn’t

After all you would have been here if you had
I wrote this poem as I am currently in my home town. This poem shows my true emotion on what used to be my favorite place, is now my worst nightmare. Great thing I’m going to college here next year, isn’t it? (Unfiltered poem #2)
May 2018 · 315
Why I hide
Katelynn May 2018
The truth to it all
Is what likes to hide in bed
What likes to lie in my head
If saw the truth
You’d know it to

You would know what it is like
To have thoughts racing like cars on a track
You would know what it is like
To have such fear hidden in the cracks

You can criticize me
Say that I’m wrong
Say that I’m fine
But until you live a day in my shoes
All you do is lie

I wish I could say it all
But see I can’t do that either
For my mind has total control
And where I have no voice

Now I know what your thinking
How is that possible?
You are mind is you
And you have full power

But what if I told you
that wasn’t the case
That a mind that is ill
Can overtake its fate

I can’t control it
No matter how hard I try
For it is my mind after all
Even if all it does is lie

Because it makes it so convincing
With every word it says
Because it is yourself after all
Isn’t it

So before you say
It’s fake
A phase
You’re not trying hard enough
Remember

You wouldn’t last a day in my shoes
With a mind like mine
With it’s constant fear
And it’s constant lies

Then you’ll finally understand
Why I hide
This poem has to do with mental illness. When people tell me that I’m faking or it’s a phase I want to yell this to their faces, but you can see why I can’t do that. (Unfiltered poem I forgot was on my phone)
May 2018 · 353
The Loudest Sound
Katelynn May 2018
Have you ever wanted to scream,
To yell,
To shout,
Until you couldn’t say another word?

Have you ever wanted to speak your mind,
Your opinions,
Your heart,
Although no one would listen?

When you wanted speak,
To utter,
To whisper,
Just to hear reassurance.

Instead you are quite.
Not a whisper,
Not a word,
But they wouldn’t know.

But it’s just your mind,
A thousand words,
A thousand pictures,
A thousand stories.

Or how your home,
Lost it meaning.
Or how your touch,
Lost it’s feeling.

But no one ever tells you,
In the darkest of night,
That when the world is silent,
Only the loudest,
Are the screams of the forgotten.
May 2018 · 406
When you left me
Katelynn May 2018
When you left me,
I remember being told,
I remember feeling sick,
I remember feeling shocked,
I remember being enraged.

When you left me,
I have never blamed him,
As much as I want to.
I blame you,
For leaving me here.

That doesn’t mean I don’t miss you,
Because I miss you dearly.
However that doesn’t mean I’m not mad,
Because you left me.

You knew that risk,
Getting on that bike.
You knew that risk,
That it might take your life.

When you left me,
I knew it was coming.
The moment you took that risk,
I knew you would leave me.

I still love you,
I miss you terribly.
And I think about you everyday.
But I will never forgive you,
When you left me.
My mother died years ago in a motorcycle accident. This poem helped me express my feelings about her death. I hope that anyone else can relate to this from a death of a loved one.
May 2018 · 349
Mirrors
Katelynn May 2018
Mirrors,
Are just glass,
And those scales,
Are just numbers.

Everyday,
You rely on them.
To tell you your worth,
As if they can speak.

You let them control you,
Let them consume you,
Every thought,
Every moment.

You let others,
Control your actions,
For just a fleeting moment,
Of trying to fit in.

But what if I told you,
That isn’t needed.
What if I told you,
That you have been cheated.

Would you believe me?
If I told you that they lie,
Or how they do not truly see you,
So you don’t have to cry.

For that glass does not know,
The smiles you bring,
For that number does not know,
The joyous tunes you sing.

But darling just remember.

For that mirror,
Is just glass,
And those scales,
Are just numbers.
I feel that in society today all that we care about is fitting the "perfect image." Sometimes we become obsessed with it. We fail to realize our true value, and that mirrors and scales do not hold value. We all have our doubts sometimes, but I hope we can all realize our true worth ❤❤❤
May 2018 · 16.6k
Someday you’ll love you
Katelynn May 2018
Someday you’ll love you.
From the sparkle in your eye,
To the pitch of your laugh,
Even the color of your hair.

You will love every part,
From every wrinkle,
To every crinkle,
Every part of you.

But they will try to tear you down,
To make you frown,
To make you think you’re not worth it.

But darling you listen to me.

From the way you walk,
To the way you talk,
You will be mocked,
But don’t you listen.

From your weight,
To your height,
You are all wonderful to me.

Maybe one day you’ll see,
The beauty I see.
The way you were made,
So beautifully.

But until then,
Do not forget,
On how true beauty,
Comes from within.
I hope one day that you love you the way you deserve. You are worth it ❤
May 2018 · 222
Between the Lines
Katelynn May 2018
When you hear my name,
What do you think?

Do you think of my parents,
Or the marks on my arms?
Do you notice my distance,
Or the darkness that harms?

When you see my smile,
Are you fooled?

Do you see my grin,
Or how it doesn’t reach my eyes?
Do you hear my laugh,
Or how it lies?

When you see the cuts on my arms,
Can you see the scars?

Do you watch what you say,
Or do you not notice my discomfort?
Do you see my begging,
Or do you push it off as needy?

Most do not notice,
When it finally outbursts,
Communication is always to blame.

Many can read lips,
But can not see the signs.
However those who are not blind,
Are few that can read my mind.
With mental illness sometimes it can be very difficult to express the issues we are facing. When people see me I think of what could be going through their minds. Are they thinking of my parents that are deceased, or how I am covered in scars. However there are some who can relate and can see the signs of illness. Though not everyone understands it, mental illness exist. I hope one day more people won't have to face the troubles some do now.
May 2018 · 335
The Dark
Katelynn May 2018
I don’t understand
        why I am afraid
                          of the                                         dark,

It’s not that I’m
            scared of                                                it,
                                                                          
It’s what hides                                              
                    in it.                                            
                                                                          
                                                                          
The lies and secrets                                        
                        we never                                   told,

The nightmares
                         hold                                          me,

Bad choices
              we would                                            regret,

Even the future                                                is  
         not bright anymore,

However
            the dark
                          Is                                              the least of my problems.
This is my first poem. I wrote it about three years ago for an English class my freshman year of high school. It is in the style of the book Crank by Ellen Hopkins, and her style of poetry. There are two ways to read this poem.
May 2018 · 582
Listen
Katelynn May 2018
How can you not hear it?
My heart,
Racing.
My mind,
Screaming.
I can’t hear anything else.

It comes from nowhere,
And everywhere.

It begins with the slight shaking.
Hiding my hands,
In hopes no one notices.

Breathing becomes irregular.
Take deep breaths,
Yet it comes out so shaky.

A smile stays plastered on my face.
Everything will be alright?
It won’t

Quickly to excuse self from the area,
Hoping no one will notice.
Keep the smile,
Hide the fear,
No one can see you break.

The room is quiet,
Mind definitely isn't.
But it's going to be okay?
Right?

Never know for sure,
Can't focus,
Too much shaking,
Screaming,
Racing,
Yet the room is so quiet.

Words are coming,
Too fast.
They're never good.

Vision blurry,
Mind screaming,
Hands shaking,
Heart racing.

someone’s coming

Breath hitches,
Hands hide,
Can’t let them know,
How broken it is inside.

They ignore the signs,
The fear,
The hiding,
They never notice.

After time,
Mind whispers,
Hands steady,
Heart rest.

It’s over,
But never know for how long,
For now it doesn’t matter.

Smile returns,
Finally return back to group,
No one notices the absence.
They never do.
This poem is about panic/anxiety attacks
May 2018 · 317
Change the World
Katelynn May 2018
Have you ever wanted to change the world?

Would you make it better?
Would you make it happier?
Or would you just make it easier?

Would you change it for good?
Or maybe for evil?

How would you change it?

Would you do it to change your image?
Or to fall in love?
Or maybe to just make that one person smile?

Would you end all wars?
Would you feed all hungry?
Or would you house all poor?

Why would you change the world?

Do you want to be the hero?
Or the villian?

There are many things we want to change,
Whether in our selves,
Or in others.

Some are greedy,
Some are humble,
Some just want peace.

With many things,
We would want to change,
It’s okay if the only thing you change,
Is yourself.

— The End —