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if the ocean would carry me
it'll collapse under the weight of my bones
made with cement and steel
and the burden each brick owns

witness the waves howler and scream
just like the heart caged in my chest
blood bubbling around the muscle
surging with every beat and protest

the bottom of the sea may be quiet
like my tongue folded neatly in my mouth
though feral beasts deep within
choke with pressure more than i can count

the ocean and i are seperate
both flowers from different gardens
one ephemeral, one wilting before your eyes
but both's head tilting up to the heavens

sorrowful eyes, swirling, storm awakening
chaos mingling betwixt water and blood
ravid souls in dire need of feeding
cursed and blessed by god

i wonder if i could carry the ocean
within just the corners of my palm
i and the ocean - we are one
a catastrophe after the calm
i love the ocean. it makes you feel a lot of things.
 Jun 8 Lulu
Ria
Hypocrite
 Jun 8 Lulu
Ria
When I hear that my friends put lines on their wrists
And draw their struggles in blood
I get mad
The same lines cover my body
My skin is marked by my past
And cannot be erased
Am I jealous?
Or am I angry to watch someone else take the same path I did?
 Jun 7 Lulu
esther
Untitled
 Jun 7 Lulu
esther
it has been one year since my ****.
it has been one year since my ****.
it has been one year since my ****.

every day and every day after gets worse.
every day and every day I see more and more how I was not wrong.
every day and every day I see more and more how I was.

it has been one year since my ****.
it has been one year since my ****.

sometimes I see boys on the street.
sometimes my eyes linger on their faces, their lips
sometimes I picture their faces, their lips on mine
sometimes I forget that I shrink away at a man's glance
sometimes I forget that I shrink away at a man's touch

it has been one year since my ****.
It has been one year since my ****.

my friends and my darlings scream out at injustice
they scream at a man who did what another man did to me
they say he didn't serve enough jail time
my friends and my darlings don't know that the man who touched me served no jail time
my friends and my darlings do not know that he walks free
free to live, free to harm, free to not be haunted
by the things he did to me

it has been one year since my ****.
it has been one year since my ****.

at moments I want to scream it from the rooftops
at moments I want to carve it into my flesh
at moments I want everyone,  everyone to know how I was hurt and left bleeding, (figuratively and literally) and naked (literally and figuratively) in a cold basement of a boy I did not know
at moments I want to say
'I WAS HURT (figuratively and literally) AND I AM IN PAIN (literally and figuratively) AND I DO NOT KNOW HOW TO HEAL'
these moments pass

it has been one year since my ****.
it has been one year since my ****.

every day and every day it gets better.
every day and every day it gets worse.
every day and every day I drag my hurt behind me like an anvil on a string
every day and every day and every day after that.

it has been one year since my ****.
it has been one year since my ****.
 Jun 7 Lulu
Dorothea Daisy
Can’t shut my eyes
Can’t miss a sound
Even if it’s lies
I want to hear it—I found

I catch titles, labels
Can’t stand that
My head is wired with cables
But I feel like an acrobat

Balancing between
Either being unheard
Or unseen
"Politics" is just a word

But it makes me grasp for air
Whenever I hear it voiced
Perceive it as if I am not there
Yearning to belong and be rejoiced

Nevertheless, I pay attention
To all the names and surnames
I feel a tension
My brain’s on fire, I can’t calm the flames
This is about hearing all the complaining about the current state of Dutch politics and listening but not understanding ('cause no one explained it) and also having a very bad fear of missing out

— The End —