A weary traveler
Keeps missing their exit,
A license to flee yet nowhere to go,
I'm running from my problems
But my gas is running low.
One day I will wear a crown and it will not fall
One day I will look in the mirror and say “ you’re beautiful “
One day I will dance without a care in the world
One day I will be a confident queen and I will rule my mind, it will not rule me
to be beautiful
to be skinny
to be happy
to be calm
to be free
to be secure
to be joyful
to be kind
to be a friend
to be dead)
People lie and say it's going to be ok
People lie and say we will make it through this
They lie and say they would do any thing for me
The lies drown me
They never leave my head
They haunt me forever
They taunt me till I give up
People lie and say they would climb the highest mountain with me
But it's to late because I've already let go
You’ll never hear the crying poet.
You’ll listen to their sobs,
But you won’t understand them.
They’ll write out their thoughts,
But you won’t get what they mean.
They’ll plea for you to understand,
But you never will.
You’ll hear their poetic cry’s
And think of it as something sweet,
Rather than the sour truth.
You’ll never hear the crying poet,
Just whispers of their doubt.
Only the poet truly understands their poetry.
I remember the evening
that we sat clinging
to paper cups
of coffee gone cold
over secrets spilled and memories told
two bodies cursed
with hearts grown old
behind your eyes
I found new worlds
A winding road stretched out for miles
to a small cafe at the end of the isle
Sweet pastries filled the mouths
of those who sat beside us
and stayed for a while.
How the hours went by,
people just passing through
The descending sun ending
a forever with you.
piano music is playing
thumps outside, small children
running down the stairs
and pretending like the world
isn't falling to pieces.
the innocence of a child
is something so precious
yet so fleeting,
ripped from small hands much too soon,
becoming an adult at ten years.
to this day, i wish that i was
born something different.
something to where my mind isn't plagued
with regret at what i've done
and who i am as a human.
my birthday is tomorrow,
but i'm not happy about it.
i wish that people would stop putting
so much emphasis on when i was born;
it just makes me wish i wasn't.
mind dump because writers block has been kicking my *** these past few days. i've been editing this quite a bit but i still don't think i like it.
we had been drinking
your mother's pinot grigio;
it was my first time.
i was inexperienced,
but when you kissed me
was it consensual
if we were both drunk?
when i was drunk and tired and
unable to think and
too weak to push you away?
thinking back, i didn't want it.
i cried in your bathroom,
but since you're a friend
i feel *****, and guilty,
but not from the hangover.
at a table for ten, there was eleven and one left out.
when will you release my heart?
you clench it, squeeze it,
tear it in two different directions.
i can't tell whether you're
caring for or breaking it.
when will you be kind?
you used to take me by the arm
and throw me across the room
and now the only thing that takes a beating
is my mind. i wish the scars you left
were still physical ones.
when will you be steadfast?
it seems like in a matter of seconds,
you've gone from screaming at me
to treating me like someone you do love.
i just wish you weren't a rollercoaster.
when will you tell the truth?
you say you love me, that you care,
that you do everything for me,
but you call me a ****. immature. a failure.
cowardly. weak. invalid. a waste of
time, money, space.
when will you love me?
you say you do. you feed and clothe me.
you pay for school and extracurriculars.
is that love? is you
doing what you're expected to do
as my mother
you ask if i will be happy somewhere else.
you ask why i am so reserved in your house.
you ask why i don't like to talk to you.
i can't respond because i know
the answer i would give
would make you
feel like a
— The End —