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KD Jan 2016
I feel it all building up inside of me
Having nowhere to let it out because where would it be safe?
Even if I could I wonder if I'd even be able to find the words
Perhaps all I could say was nothing at all
Maybe silence is all there is to say
KD Jan 2016
They may pretend, with their swords looking of pure gold
Saying they fight for the good because of the colour they dress in
the uniforms standing for righteousness
But don't be fooled
If you look closer
You will notice that the darker shadows of their armor are not delicate sewings but the blood of innocent
and their emblems on their shirts are nothing but blinded praise for their cruelty
KD Nov 2015
I have been told by so many that I explain myself so well
That my sense of understanding is so great that they are proud to tell me
It is good that I can understand so well
But what does this do of good for me
If I can't ever understand what others want of me
I always misjudge the situations
And think that something is going good when really I am just stepping on landmines
Pretending the flying limbs are flowers floating in the air
How can I not see that If I am so good with understanding?
I am beginning to doubt if I am ever going to be happy
Because all the happiness I ever had was created illusions in my head
like a puppet on a string I forced myself to dance joyfully throughout a life; that I did not even enjoy
A big smile on my face after everytime I cry
A big laugh though my soul mourns with the sounds of trees breaking in the wind
A hollow feeling of always walking on a path which carries old imprinted footprints from people whom walked here before me
But instead of creating my own I step in theirs; To ignore the fact that my footprints are taking this journey alone when others have been accompanied on theirs
KD Nov 2015
The thoughts run faster than the speed of light
Scientists will never be able to prove this because all you can see through scans are small electric reactions in the brain signaling to each other codes and orders and maybe even jokes we don't get
We don't even know ourselves how we think these thoughts
We don't even know how to stop our thoughts when they get a little too wild
A big question with probably multiple answers
None of which I believe can ever be found scientifically
No, it must lie deeper
Like an ocean of thinking and we are bound to drown in it
but we won't suffocate, just slowly ignite with the magic happening around us
Oh, what beauty if only we knew if to be scared or feel safe
Yeah, you can look into my brain
But you will never see my mind
KD Oct 2015
It is so easy to pick on yourself
but so hard to pick yourself up
I realised this not long ago after long times of endless hammering smashes on my bare soul
even my body so scarred that maybe I looked more like a chopping board after all
I never let myself have chances to let the parts grow together and see that flowers
do indeed bloom from my depths within
Instead I continued to **** the monsters and demons I thought I consisted of
but in reality I was just harming myself; an awful sin
I always believed that destroying myself was what was needed to be done
and I deserved this pain of never being able to stand on my two feet
I had come to believe what I was told by many, that my two feet do not have the strength they need
So I never walked and never ran
I always stood still or crawled along while letting them get weaker ever since I began
I don't understand and realise when I began to notice that my ways were terribly wrong
I never understood or realised that I had wasted years that forever now will be gone
But I do understand and realise that I finally have been blessed to see
That I do not exist to survive, but simply to live and be me
  Oct 2015 KD
Kristie Aragon
I did not give up. I let go. They are two different things. Letting go is the opposite of giving up. Letting go is moving forward. Letting go is going against every single heartbeat, swallowing every tear, cutting every string. Few people realize this, but letting go takes more courage, more strength, than holding on.
KD Oct 2015
Poetry helps me cope
But why does it make me bitter and hateful to write down my thoughts
I feel disgusted by touching my keyboard as I spill out some words
It's like I can't allow myself to feel
Not once in my life have I felt without being ashamed of it afterwards
Having been waiting for someone's approval before I could genuinely show myself
God, I am exhausted of always waiting for someone to accept me in order to be me
I really am undoubtedly too tired of it
Circles may not have doors or holes, but they must have a weak point
If only I punch and kick it hard enough
Maybe then eventually I will get out
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