Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Soon I'll not have a name to you.
Soon I'll only be a girl you once knew.
One day, I won't have a face either.
And one day when you pass me in the mall
You won't recognize me.
But I'll remember you.
I'll remember how you chose to forget about me.
And a look of confusion will cross your face
When I smile at you.
And you'll go home
And after a while
You'll remember my face.
And you'll remember my name.
And you'll remember how you chose to forget me
And you'll ask yourself why you did.
But I will have moved on
I will have forgiven you by then,
And that will make you think
And think
And think.
2018 has been a lesson about friends.
You are golden.
And I love you still.
And I wonder... Do you think of me at all?
Does anything trigger your memory?
I was a fool.
I acted too rashly. Always.
You are golden.
And I love you still.
I'm cool on my own, but with you...
Seasons come and go,
Each year it's the same.
If only people changed like the seasons.
Winter, Summer, Autumn, Spring;
Each one holds a secret,
It's own special magic.

Winter holds a promise that there is
Life after Death.
Spring ignites a spark; a sliver of
Hope and a pinch of Joy for healing.
Autumn holds the key to
Eternity,
And Summer is the Epicenter of
The Magic.
Summer is the result; the After-life;
It is Rebirth.

Seasons change, and people do too,
But it's a pity - a shame - that people
Don't change the same way.
People are too unpredictable; we change
Our minds too many times, we change
Our Destinies every day.

Seasons don't.

Seasons accept their constant cycle;
Their Natural Pattern.
People will never be like the Seasons.
I guess that's what makes us all
Unique.

In this way
We are Designed -
Crafted, Molded.

Seasons harbour a Secret;
It's own special Magic.
We too, are our own special Magic.

Winter promises Life after Death,
People are promised Happiness after Depression.
Spring ignites a spark of Joy for Healing,
People are promised Joy and Healing after Pain
And Suffering.

Autumn holds the key to Eternity,
People are promised Eternity in the Promised Land.
Summer is the Epicenter; the After-life,
And people are the Epicenters of their own lives.

We are our own Masters of Catastrophe.
People are Reborn in Faith.

Looking at it now, maybe we are much like
The Seasons.

We are predictable in our unpredictability.
This is our prized Possession.
This is our kind of Magic.

People have seasons, people are seasons.
Winter is our Darker side,
Spring is our Healing,
Summer, our Euphorical - blissful side,
Autumn, our Procrastination, our Changing,
Our Learning.

Just like the Seasons, we change;
We mold our Futures and become who we are meant
To be;
We become part of a Cycle.
"Oldie but a goodie." The title was given to me as a topic for unprepared poetry writing 2 years ago, and I finished it within 5 minutes of our given time of 1 hour, and a few weeks after submission, found out that I was overall item winner.
That pushed me even harder to pursue Poetry.
I no longer hope for anyone's approval but my own.
I no longer let opinions of others define who I am.
I will follow the dreams I have jotted down on my bucket list.
I will follow my heart.
I will live the way I am meant to live.
I will no longer be trapped in this cage of conformity. I am too much a Bohemian Soul for that.
I will fall in love with different places, art, poems, music, people, tastes. And I will no longer apologize for my mistakes.
I am who I am - a straightforward, loyal, compassionate Bohemian that lives for Indie tunes and tarot cards and daisies, sunflowers, clouds and sculptures. A reader and a deep thinker and a lover and a dreamer and a free spirit.
Her body was a canvas
Her thoughts and words, the paintbrush
The thoughts and opinions of others, the paint

For too long, she had painted dark colours onto her skin
Reflecting what others wished her to show

Now, she is painting brighter colours onto her skin
For she is learning to love the body she is in

Her body is a canvas
Her thoughts and words, the paintbrush
The thoughts and opinions of others, the experience
Her actions, the paint
I've let negativity rule for too long. It's time to let the sunshine in.
(Inspired by Dawn Bunker)
(still not a poem)
Sometimes it gets to a point where I can't hear anything. Not even the static on the radio. Every little thing can push me over the edge. Make that bomb start ticking a little faster. Make me think that I'm going to have another attack. And it hurts... And it doesn't help if you have this constant voice in your head - this constant Thing trying to basically take over your mind.
It's no joke.
Depression is no joke.
Bipolar is no joke.
Having a split-personality is no fun.
Mix all of those elements together for days and nights on end.
No longer something to make fun of is it?
I wish people were more aware of what having Anxiety and other "disorders" implied.
(not a poem)
I don't think some people fully comprehend how bad Anxiety can be. Just saying or doing the simplest, stupidest thing could trigger it. And it only takes a second. You can tell me about how great my outfit looks and SNAP, it's there. He can start an argument with me and then apologies right away, but SNAP. It'll be there right away. And it truly *****... You feel like crying, you start shaking, it feels like your lungs are collapsing, you feel faint and nauseous and your heart feels hollow, you can't see anymore - everything is pitch-black even in broad daylight - and you clam up.
Next page