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Poems DON’T bloom—
They rupture.
They ignite,
Like a fire in your soul,
Waiting to explode,
Like gasoline in a burning room.

Poems
Are those
Who land deeper than the largest crevasse—
Those that leave you glaring,
Wide—unblinking eyes.

Waiting for the next punch
To your heart,
Like music crashing into your body
When you have the volume too loud.

Poems are meant to claw,
To rip,
Open your ribcage,
To smear
Your blood—pain—EVERYTHING
In front of you,
To show you it’s okay
For ALL to exist;
To trick
Your heart
To love,
Hate,
To turn fear
Into fate.

There are supposed to drip blood
In words that were NEVER meant to be said.

Every line,
Something I couldn’t bellow,
So I sharpened
My words like a knife,
Till my words bled
Blood—
I could never give back.

I LIVE for blood,
I LIVE for pain.
I LIVE for the world to not
Care
What it’s left for me,
What the world’s done to let me decay.

Each verse of silence,
Each verse of pain,
Each verse of anger,
Of shame,
Or hate,
Of love,
IS YEARS
OF SWALLOWING
MY OWN BLOOD.

YEARS.
OF HATING MYSELF.
YEARS.
OF NOT TRUSTING ANYONE
Who said…
“I’m here,”
“I’ll listen,”
“I’ll help.”

LET THAT BURN.

YEARS.
OF PAIN.
YEARS.
OF SHAME,
FOR WHAT THEY DID,
FOR HOW THE WORLD
TAUGHT ME WRONG.

You call my poems BRAVE!?
…THEIR SURVIVAL.
THEIR BLOOD.
I WAS NEVER
ABLE TO PUT BACK
IN MY BODY.

Poems are my baggage;
Each weighs—
A ton.

What is a poem?
A POEM?
It’s the moment before you scream,
When you realize you can’t say
What’s digging into your mind.
It’s rhyming stanzas
Disguised as hatred.
It’s love
Dressed as rhythm.
It’s pain
Hidden
As syllables,
Each word—my teeth.

Poems are MEANT
To be messy,
MEANT
To be ugly,
MEANT
TO LIVE—

Even when others
Think they shouldn’t have ever
Lived that long,
When you’re told to leave it in your head.

You want a Poem?
SIT in my blood.
I’LL sit in yours.
I’ll comfort you,
If you do the same.
I’ll be there in your brightness,
And in your darkness,
With the faint glow of the candle
To illuminate
Your shattered
Ship.

Writing is a freedom;
It’s everything
Anyone could need.

A poem doesn’t need to be perfect—
…just…let it be you.

THAT’S what a poem is MEANT
To do.
I finally got this out of me…i feel…free…
Day turns to night
The faint yellow glow
of the streetlamp
Illuminates the-now deserted
Roadway

A quiet hum of birds
Are the only thing filling
The silenced city

The sun now sinks low
Dusk to midnight
All goes mute
The flicker of
house lights
Are only visible
In the soft mist

all goes to sleep
In bed- without a peep

Day to night
Dusk to midnight
Midnight to day
The cycle continues
Waiting to repeat
Another day
Free write :) -- no Grammer fixes for now
I tried to follow the map,
It was a trap.
It soon vanished,
I have a clue.

If it’s who I think it is.
They’re coming back soon.  

Each winding turn,
Every breath burned.
Each demon,

The blood,
Visions.
All flooding.
My brain.

Each turn.
A major mistake.
I wish I could fix,
My head.
I can’t even go to bed.

The hallucinations,
Each time.
My brain is tricking me,
I know it’s true.

How long can I last?
Before I collapse?

There after me,
All day,
Every day,
Im never free.

Struggling-
They silence me,
With words.
Claiming Im trouble,
Claiming I’ll never be enough,
Claiming Im not tough enough.

They stole me map,
A bit ago,
Like a had suspected before.
Im losing my way,
The path,
No longer paved.
The road signs,
Lost in mist.
They programmed,
In place.
Like they ceased to exist.

For now— to stay alive,
I obey.
If I don’t,
They’ll surely come back,
Another day,  
To make sure I decay.
Hi yall,
Remember when I said I was going to camp next week?
   ...well...it is actually the following week..I apologize for this--as i just realized my mistake after my parents mentioned starting to bringing out our suitcases.
  
Thanks yall-- for your understanding and I sincerely apologize for the confusion!
- Olivia
Hello fellow poets,
Welcome if your new—
Hello to friends Ive made.

I thought I’d let you know,
Im going to camp next week.
So I’ll be gone all week.
With NO access to ANY electronics,
So I won’t post next week AT ALL!
I will post AS MUCH AS POSSIBLE.
This rest of the week— into weekend.
Love y’all!!
<3  :)
   -Olivia
Sad-sunken eyes,
Large tumor,
Growing fast.
Who knows?
How long he has.

Bulges and bumps,
Along his body.
Cant even sit,
Or stand properly.

I love you Toby,
To infinity and beyond.
You probably only have,
around a week left.
But still—
Stay strong.
I love you Toby— you didn’t even get out of bed today..you only ate twice..only went to the bathroom a couple times… I know your hurting.. I just hope you don’t…pass away…while Im going to camp… I love u…
Hope washes in—
On my new boat.

Brushing against,
The new-strong,
Wooden planks.

Hopefully.
I can stay,
Afloat.
Who knows when I’ll sink again..it’s just a matter of time, before the ship goes down, and I go with it…
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