Bird in a cage
With no bars.
It's cut free
Yet it remains.
This was inspired by the poem "Caged Bird" by Maya Angelou. It has basically nothing to do with what inspired it, but just thought I'd let you guys know.
My mental health is not doing okay.
I’m not doing okay.
But i pretend I’m okay.
I’ll be okay.
Everything is fine.
Dream of me
I am real...
I am where smiles are made
and tears fade away
Where hope springs forth
Away from the darkness
of the earth
I am the glow of the moon
and all the stars in the sky
those who seek the light
shall have me as their guide
I am the red bird or butterfly you see
Just keep your eyes open... to find me
I am where tomorrow is coming
and hope always holds on
I am never truly gone....❤
I have been dreaming of my mother lately and do not want to wake up because it feels so real and I miss her so. I wrote this from her perspective writing to me
He asked me " do you want me to stop loving you"?
I replied " you can't stop loving me when you never did
"are you really in love with me?"
"of course, I really really love you, babe."
then, why doesn't it seem like you do?
because no—not really. you're just in love with the way I always make you feel. like you're the Sirius among my constellation of stars.
because you are.
you just.. you just love my words. you love the way I pour my feelings for you through my poems. you love the way I arrange words and phrases to cheer you up on your hard times. you love the way I appreciate everything you do.
you love the fact that you're special to someone—to me. but you neither give me a feedback nor treat me the way I treat you because you know that I'll always be there for you, whatever it takes.
— of course you are my Sirius,
but darling you're shining too bright,
and I'm burned.
I've got to say, you know I love your eyes,
And I don't care, because I know who's behind,
Just close those lips, that I've been dying to kiss,
And I will try to take away, all of your pain.
But if you're holding his hand, then I don't know,
Where I stand, my love, you're breaking me.
And Surely you know, I bet you can see,
My love, you're breaking me.
I’m sorry we fight so much
Late at night
Hungover on old memories and faces
Wishing that it was 1972
Mary’s dead and gone
Peter's in rehab
And the baby eloped
I’m sorry I didn’t tell you
I don’t blame you anymore
I know you tried
working overtime brought in the goods
but we were loosing the kids
Weekly trips to the hair salon and Dairy Queen
made them smile a lot
but it was all out of fear
We should have listened when it was time to be quiet
Give out hugs on the daily instead of beatings
Hold them close instead of locking them indoors
I guess what I am trying to say is that I am sorry
I found torn out pages
in her book.
She burnt them,
From a past that never happened
To a love that never could.
She wanted to break her pen
But she continued writing just to see,
If anyone would ever love her...
Her never ending story.
I’ve never received a flower
Or even a rose
But I’m a guy
So it’s acceptable I suppose
That signifies ones feelings for me
No token of ones love
But I have gotten
Watered with hate
Planted in betrayal
Fertilized with lies
And maintained by fakes
Roses are Red
But my roses are dead
And crumble beneath my feet