Oliver

Oliver May 7

With razor-sharp teeth, I bit,
Gnawing deep until I struck bone.
But hunger drove me past the snap—
I feasted 'til there was nothing left,
Only splinters and marrow and silence.
It wasn’t 'til then I saw the ruin—
And I wasn’t sorry I’d eaten my love.

I'm writing a vampire story and wrote this about the character. my vampires have shark like teeth instead of only two sharp fangs. they also eat human flesh and drink human blood.

#vampire #flesh #blood #eating #cannibalism

Oliver Feb 13

Mugs

A mug of tea, a mug of cheer,
Warmth in hands, the cold draws near.
Sip by sip, the world slows down,
In quiet moments, peace is found.

I use my mugs as pencil holders, I need another mug. but that might be way I wrote this. (it definitely is I see my mugs right next to me so I wrote about mugs).

Oliver Feb 13

The Sock That Screamed

A sock in the dryer, lost in the fray,
Vanished to realms where odd things stray.
It reappeared with eyes so wide,
And whispered, “Don’t ask what’s inside.”

what did that sock see?

Oliver Feb 10

Lemon Bite

Golden sunlight, sharp and bright,
laughter wrapped in citrus bite.
Sweetness hums but won’t stay long,
vanishes as **** grows strong.

Lips will pucker, tongues will sting,
summer’s kiss in everything.

lemons yumm

#lemon

Oliver Feb 9

No Gold in Rotten Fruit

I wear my bruises like a medal, stitched with spite and silver thread,
A marionette with tangled strings, a puppet better left for dead.
I bite down ******* bitter endings, taste the rind, ignore the pulp,
Squeeze the past into a poison, drink it down without a gulp.

They say I talk like I’ve been cursed, like I’ve been carved from sharpened stone,
Like I was raised by sleepless nights and left to burn out on my own.
But I was never one for mourning, never one to bow or break—
I'd rather claw the sky to pieces, take what’s mine, and call it fate.

I’d trade my name for twenty dollars, sell my shadow just to breathe,
What’s a soul if not a burden? What’s a lie if you believe?
I spit my sorrow down the drain, watch it spiral, watch it fade,
Everything I used to be was just a debt I never paid.

You call me reckless like it’s tragic, like my hands weren’t built to bruise,
Like I was born to fit in cages, born to settle, born to lose.
But love was never something gentle, never hands that held me tight,
Just a wager placed at midnight, just a lesson learned in spite.

So let the fruit rot in the basket, let the knife slip in too deep,
Let the sugar turn to venom, let the prayers put me to sleep.
I’d trade my time for twenty dollars, bet against my own regret,
If I can’t rewrite the ending, I’ll make **** sure they forget.

I made this for part of a collection for this competition but I felt it didn't meet the criteria for being age appropriate for middle and highschoolers.

Oliver Feb 1

Caged Echoes

I wake to walls I did not build,
A space too small, a name too still.
They call me by a voice not mine,
A shape I wear, but never will.

The world beyond hums soft and bright,
A distant place I’ve yet to claim.
I trace its edges in my mind—
A whispered truth without a name.

The mirror shifts, the cracks run deep,
Yet in them, something starts to grow.
Not wings, not fins, but something else—
A self I’ve always seemed to know.

So let the door be rusted shut,
Let silence press against my skin.
I’ll carve a window with my hands—
And let the light come pouring in.

This Poem is about being trans and stuffs. I took some inspiration from the song Rule #4 - Fish in a Birdcage by Fish in a Birdcage.

#lgbtq #trans #cage #bird #fish #selfdiscovery #carve #window #pouring

Oliver Feb 1

Torn Pages, Empty Spaces

My past is a story someone else wrote,
And I only have the torn pages—
Fragments without context,
A book with no beginning.

I chase memories like butterflies,
But they slip through my fingers,
Not fluttering away—no,
They were never there at all.

I know I love cartoons.
I know my mother made me a quilt,
Small, soft, still mine—
But now it sits folded away,
Replaced by a newer one,
Just as warm, just as loved.

She remembers when I was small.
She remembers the things I’ve lost.
And maybe that’s enough—
To have proof that I was,
Even when I can’t recall.

But where are the missing pieces?
The laughter in the backyard,
The whispered secrets,
The warmth of a childhood
That should be mine?

I sit with the silence,
Trying to stitch together
A story I was meant to remember.
But all I have are torn pages—
And I don’t know how the story goes.

I still have the quilt my mom made when I was young, a corner is bitten and torn cause I used to have a chewing problem. I have two more quilts each bigger than the last. I love them all with all my heart.

This is the first poem I wrote about myself, I hate writing about myself. I can never remember. I used to cry not being able to write stories in class like everyone else. mine were false made up not real like the others. they were meant to be real about our lives but I couldn't remember mine.

I can remember more than before but that part of my life is lost its gone and I don't know why. I wish there was an answer. I wish I had the solution to get them back. a while ago I remembered one memory from when I was little. I had ignored my mom's warnings not the play on the seemingly endless amount of chairs there were. I played had fun and fell there was a nail sticking out the side of one and it caught the skin of my leg. I don't remember what happened next or how I reacted or how I felt about it. I could have cried I could have smiled I could have pretended it didn't hurt as much as it did, but I don't know I don't remember. I wish i did even if it wasn't the best memory it was still mine and I can only remember part of it. I wish I could remember more than the few memories I have from when I was younger. I have less than what can be counted on one hand. they are my memories they are mine if only they thought so too.

#memory #remember #gone #missing #empty #recall #sad #nowhere #found