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I wanted to be born as a star
but someone had a different idea.

That's how I ended up as a street lamp. I die too soon and flicker too much. But yesterday I saw a moth trying to kiss me. It almost burned her.
I have heard stars do not get this luxury.
"i was written by a man" this "i was written by a woman" that.
i was written by myself because no one had the energy to pick up a pen and do it for me. i wrote myself with scavenged ink and put myself together bit by bit with agonizing scrutiny because no one wanted to write the details
I used to think blue eyes were pretty,
his were not.
his were not cornflower, sapphire, baby, indigo, azure,
or cloudy sky blue.
His were midnight where the light pollution from the city blocks the stars.
Iceberg, squall, hypothermia, eventual death
From ashes, I rise, no crown, no name,
Forged in fire, untamed by shame.
Each fall, a step, each scar, a light,
In darkness, I carve my endless fight.

I seek no praise, no fleeting fame,
I burn within, I am my flame.
Not for the weak, nor for the crowd—
I rise alone, unbroken, proud.

The world may tremble, the storm may roar,
But I will stand, forever more.
For strength is born from deepest pain,
And through the loss, I’ll rise again.
I noticed that the original Golden, I Rise didn’t receive the recognition I hoped for, so I took it upon myself to refine the message. This new version, Unyielding, is a more focused, powerful expression of the core philosophy I’ve been striving to convey. It's direct, and every word is crafted to emphasize resilience, inner strength, and the relentless drive to rise above adversity. I believe this captures the essence of what I wanted to say in a clearer, more impactful way.
A breath caught,
snagged on a jagged edge,
pure, white terror blooms,
a blinding fog.

Footsteps echo,
too loud,
everywhere, a frantic pulse,
a hummingbird trapped.

Panic, a cold fist
around the throat,
can't see, can't think,
just run. Where?
Doesn't matter, just away.
Blind.
You’d think that it would be easy, after all this time.
But I still look for your ghost.
Some people never ask for help, forever saying “I’m okay.” until they can't.
 May 5 hannah miller
Sofia
the sun is falling on my face,
but I still feel the cold.
I tried to fool everyone,
oh i tired,
but I know,
that my soul was carried away by the wind,
and I was filled with illusion,
that I will still feel warmth someday.
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