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dafne Mar 2014
it hurts
throat,
stomach,
and mind.
I just want to drown
and I am drowning
I've been drowning.

and it sounds pathetic
but I just really feel alone
and I just want to scream
until my lungs dry out
and my skin turns red
and my head is pounding

but there's no one to vent to
because i'm fifteen
and my problems are too mere

and I cannot remember the last time
someone was concerned about true feelings
or my sudden quietness
or how I've been lately

here I am screaming and drowning
over the absence of unimportant people
while there orphans and hungry babies
and cancer and mental disorders.

so i'll keep quiet
no one cares
so why should I
dafne Mar 2014
j
and my heart sank
like a rusty two ton anchor
in the sea of depression I used to swim

you were my lifeboat for two weeks
and i'm sinking again
i'm drowning deeper than I was before

and you will not come a save me
because you'll be distracted and focused
on that charismatic beautiful girl.
dafne Feb 2014
poetry is fluid
like blood pumping through my veins
words flow nice from hands.
haiku
dafne Feb 2014
The never ending relationship
of the moon and the sea is complicated
perhaps worse than Romeo and Juliet

What if after millions of years,
mornings and nights,
the sea decides to tell the moon
that she doesn't want to be controlled
by him anymore

Becuase he makes her tides into
an uncontrollable disaster
and she is litteraly a sea of emotions
with screaming waves
and murmuring ripples

And she looks up and
cries to the moon
to stop overpowering her
because she is tired of the recklessness

But the moon replies
that she is nothing without him
And he'll either forever control her for eternity
or leave her forever,
dead, immobile, with no beating heart
which is her tide.
I originally wrote this based on the fact that a teacher was trying to explain to us that we can't let other people control our emotions and mood. But I thought that was uderly ridiculous and impossible. People is all we have. Without those people,  we are often nothing. Then when I was typing this, I thought of an abusive relationship.  The moon is overpowering the sea, even though she is much more grand than the moon. The moon makes her feel reckless, and tells her she is nothing without him. He'll go on controlling her because she thinks without him she is nothing. When truly, the moon is nothing without her. Because everyone visits the sea, but how often does someone go to the moon?
dafne Jan 2014
I wish I would have spoken.
Six-word story.

I feel like this applies to almost every area of my life right now.
I let things pass by and I keep quiet and much later on I hate myself for not speaking up. And it's too late to pick myself up. Soon enough you see him holding hands with another girl or you see yourself doing something you never even wanted too.
The word "speaking" to me means more than talking. Talking feels like spewing impertinent words but speaking feels meaningful.
I just wish I would have spoken.
Many, many countless times.
dafne Jan 2014
3 am

Eyelids are heavy

Thoughts are stirring

Merging, into new ones

Forming something magnificent

Chills down my body

Feel like hands trying to tickle

And my eyelids want to shut

I want to exasperate feelings

And sleep with a clear mind

Thoughts are out of line

Or unrealistic like hallucinations

I dream of going back in time

And fixing many things

Making myself into something

Something not inferior

Something that is not

Too diffrent or too the same

Critique comes from being

An individual, a follower, or a wannabe

Meanwhile I'm thinking

And trying to create;

To create the most beautiful colors

That I will see when I die.
dafne Jan 2014
You were like nicotine for a while
you filled me up
and I felt whole
but I didn't think you were toxic

I remember like yesterday
how you took my delicate hand
with boney malnourished fingers
with green and purple veins
and you gently kissed it
and for an instant I was fascinated

But from those couple of seconds
that were called an instant
I became completely infatuated
with my head in cotton clouds

But it's been almost a year
and you've moved on,
onto your next victim

And theres a hurricane of of emotions
because you've informed me
that you are happy and whole
(Which was what I was trying to make you)
but it hurt because it wasn't me making you happy

It was the girl with simplicity stamped on her image
and freckles that you probably enjoyed counting
it was not the millions of pages
I had written to you
trying so hard to make you
love yourself like I loved you

And I still sit and wonder about you everyday

And when the teacher asked
us to write about the best day of our lives
my mind swerved back to you
but I knew that you were a few seats behind
probably writting about your freckled face girl

I still remember
the warm ambrosia
I felt fill me up
like blood in veins
and marrow in bones
when our fingers intertwined
and you stared into my soul

I wonder if she feels
the nicotine and ambrosia too
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