they say that pictures tell a thousand words,
for every lie you tell, another curse
that you’ll never be enough for them
you’ll never make it to the end
because this photograph you gave me,
you hold onto my memories
it shines like a star in the night sky
if every story had an ending of its own,
why is mine cut off
by the white lines that surround the story
of my life
in a photograph
does this make sense probably not L
everything i do,
the moment i wake up the sky is already gloomy;
preparing me for the day ahead.
the biggest accomplishment i’ve made this week was making a decision,
about how i wish i was in bed.
the piano is too loud in my ears and it pours out my eyes,
wishing there was a way i could desperately change the skies.
idk. i’m back ig? with another bad poem
in a society where we are not allowed to speak to one another;
how does one know if they are being seen or truly heard?
the words spill out as letters on a blue-light screen,
bright enough to make me see;
but am i understanding the depth of the people around me?
i've been asked to be
in fancy anthologies,
be in fancy magazines.
to write freely on the page,
fill it with words,
light it up in flames.
everything i've learned to love,
vanishes in the end.
this makes no sense
i was listening to the sound of my heartbeat.
it sounded like the pitter patter of the rain,
in the abyss.
what does your heart sound like?
imagine if i could
glide across life,
like the way figure skaters
glide across the ice?
a triple salchow,
i’ve taken flight.
my biggest dreams,
those fearful nights.
if i could glide,
the wind in my face.
how easy would it be,
to make a mistake?
and ruin the whole program.
i’ve worked three years
of my sweat.
of my cold, red blood
seeping out of my neck.
and the rain still pours
when i despise of its day.
but still the sun
comes out one of these days.
three long years
of working instead of play.
just to help people
who feel like the rain.
sometimes, it’s important to remember the beauty in the rain and thunder