mollie Aug 16
what is a poem?

for many, it's misery;
pain and hardship under a thin veil of prose
it used to be misery for me, as well;
but i've grown so weary of suffering
under the delusion that i'm creating art.

what's the point of dwelling on the sorrows of this reality
when i could instead envision a better one?
why should i lash out in despair
when i can instead heal and empower?
how can i call a poem truly beautiful
when it's only made of ugliness and heartbreak?

maybe it's shallow of me,
but i'd much rather write
a poem that makes someone happy;
a poem that gives them the strength
to break out of their dark places.

maybe it's shallow of me,
but in my eyes the most important thing about art
is that it can help someone smile,
help them stand up,
and help them decide to make a change.

maybe it's shallow of me,
but rather than simply poetry about my burdens,
maybe instead i'll try to write
the poetry that would have lessened them.
i'm trying to live my life more positively, and i may try to write some happier poems in the future. i hope you're having a lovely day! <3
  Aug 16 mollie
Zoie Marie Lynn
i’m made of sidewalk cracks and moments i should’ve taken
i’m made of broken rings and the wrong girls i put my trust in.
because i didn’t know what love was until i kissed a girl made of thorns
and i didn’t know what happiness was until fear started sleeping without locking the door.
i’m no where near what the world makes me out to be
what it expects from me
and maybe that’s okay.
i’m made of crappy coffee and the constant pressure of being something else
i'm made of holes in the foundation and girls that kiss me just to watch me melt.
because i didn't know what lust was until i touched skin made of broken glass
and i didn't know what hope was until i fell a little too fast.
my story ends before it even starts
because forever is only real if you look like art
but i look like broken promises in an empty hallway
and maybe that's okay.
and strange what desire will make foolish people do
mollie Apr 23
i keep trying to write about her,
but words don't do her justice.

how many flowery pictures can a poet paint,
how many images of love and romance and soft care can you create,
before it loses all meaning?

there's no dancing flower petals when we talk,
no lightning racing through my nerves,
no stars shining their light on us and us alone.

there's only peace, as we laugh our way through a video game we're failing,
as we try to work in each other's company and get distracted in an instant,
as we comfort each other and understand each other, in the way that two depressed, anxious teenage girls have to.

it was her birthday last week. i made her a muffin, and got her some cute socks.
maybe i could've done something more grandiose,
but she held my hands and looked at me like i hung the moon.

we embraced, casually, easily.
the spring sun warmly graced our bodies.
there were no nerves, no pounding heart, no flowers or lightning or stars;
just peace.
i have a crush on my best friend, and i'm perfectly happy with how things are now-- it's nice, not wanting to start a relationship, since our friendship is so great already. she's amazing and i love her so much :) i hope you're having a nice day! spring is in bloom!!! <3 <3 <3
  Apr 23 mollie
Nishu Mathur
She's wrapped herself on the wall
With her fragrant pink flowers
In bunches of disheveled disarray

And when the summer wind blows
It sends a gentle floral shower
Of blossoms and scents my way

At night, under the moon and stars
I inhale her. With her I love to be
And though I dally and play with words
There can never be a poem as she.
mollie Apr 9
my therapist folds his hands.

i don't lie down on his leather couch, head resting on its arm
like in the comics or whatever.
no, i sit upright, stiff, fiddling with my hands, looking away.
it's hard to feel comfortable as i talk about my discomfort;
as i quietly explain the pit in my stomach, the tears behind my eyes which just don't leave.

there are some things that are infinitely easier to type out
in a paragraph of prose,
a fit of fancy,
a poem.

it's easy to title this.
i can't say it, though.

breathe in, 2, 3, 4,
hold, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7,
exhale, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8.
it helps, for a moment,
but only a moment as i'm alone again and i know that everyone hates me why am i here what am i doing why can't i do anything i'm so stupid so useless nobody wants me i should just--

breathe in.
hold.
exhale.
something has to change.
cbt hasn't been helping much. i think i should probably go on meds. not sure.
mollie Mar 25
they say we're attached by the hip to our technology.

and hell, they're right;
not like they helped,
shoving us in front of screens so young
because they wanted us to be a part of the future.

well, now the future is here.
in seventeen minutes of silence,
six minutes and twenty seconds of noise,
in signs and shouts and speeches and rebellion.

we are the kids that have never known peace,
never known a country not at war,
never truly felt safe in the nation which claims to protect us.

we are the kids who remember our parents,
how their smiles were always strained
as they quickly muted the news of an outside world not safe for their children.

we are the kids who have our monthly drills,
fire and weather and lockdown and active shooter
and always, always fear that this time, it's for real.

but not anymore.
today, we refuse to remain silent.
today, we refuse to die forgotten.
today, we refuse to listen to thoughts and prayers.
today, we march for our lives:
either you're with us or you're against us.
march for life was absolutely amazing today, i wish i could have been there!! i'm so proud of everyone who participated. even if you couldn't be present: support the movement, however you can. fight back. you have a voice, you have power: use it. have a great day and stay safe!!
mollie Mar 12
for most, the closer to someone you get, the more they open up;
the more words slip past their lips, unfiltered,
more unrestrained laughter,
more indulgent smiles.

but for me,
it's a little bit different.

because, you see,
the closer we get, the quieter i become,
because i know that if you are truly special,
you won't mind the quiet very much.
my level of presence goes from uncomfortable + quiet around strangers, to loud around acquaintances, to very loud around friends, to contented quiet again around best friends. i guess i don't feel the need to assert + prove myself around the people i love. :)
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