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4.7k · Sep 2018
Tightropes and Egg Shells
Miranda Sep 2018
What once is now was
My feet tread delicately over egg shells
Balance on unsturdy tightropes
My body's equilibrium thrown off
My legs shake like an earthquake of emotion
From outer to inner core, I see
A slimmer of green light, my american dream
I am the Great Gatsby
Holding onto a bit of the past
Desiring it to become the present
To the future of mine
Yet with soft words
I am met with inevitable flames of anger
A rage so powerful, so dangerous
So provoking, prodding me like a cow
The man I was born from
Whom is supposed to defend me
Is one that destroys me
His words conform, turning into a wrecking ball
Slam into my heart, destroying it
Pieces fall down like pebbles tip, tipping against a lover's window
Except it taps the windows of Satan
Awakening unknown, terrifying horrors
As bottles clink, can crash, alcohol splatters
So does the confidence I once had
mbm
4.4k · Sep 2018
I am Like You
Miranda Sep 2018
I am just like you, except there is something stopping me
Racism; Stunting me from the same opportunities as any other person
Being an outcast, a black sheep in a world of white sheep
Due to the melanin in my skin, a feature everyone has that is skin deep

I come from the natural essences of meticulous hair products in my hair
Used to tame my true being because it looks "*****" when in reality my hair is but of African descent, as am I
As I walk past you, you give me nasty looks as the smell of my tamed curls wafts to your nose
I walk like you, talk with the same tongues as you, see like you do, and have a soul within the vessel of my body and hear the same way
Only the things I hear and see are not kind or compliments about things I wear or how I look

Instead, I am met with hateful eyes, pointing fingers and a raised voice
I am judged for anything I do: my native tongue, my natural curls, and the color of my skin
You look at me with belligerent eyes, your hands moving around symbolically to create a point
I am just you, just with many differences between us and a whole different world; yours without segregation

I am just like you, I can express how I feel in different ways just like you can
I can create music with my tongue and I can create a dance with the rhythm my ancestors blessed upon me
I can create a sketch or painting with my hands to express the tragedies segregation has caused
I move my feel methodically to the words of God himself, which uplift my conflicted soul in desperate need of prayer

I am just like you, except my world consists of using “colored” bathrooms and sitting in places only for “colored” people
Is the reason that I am called colored is due to the color of my skin, which is unnatural to your European eyes?
I go to church just like you and believe in the same ten commandments just as you
If there’s one thing you should know, it is that I am just like you; I am human
mbm
840 · Sep 2018
Napalm Skies
Miranda Sep 2018
As the smoke of a forgotten lover rises from your tainted skin
You sigh and realize what you've done; total annihilation
The bones you carry lie within you limply as you lie still
Your joints clatter like castanets collaborating to make a song of anxiousness
Your eyes like sunken chasms of a feeling of longing
Your lip quivers like the string of a bow and arrow before you shoot it at the target
The castles you've built within you, the forests that blossomed and the towns of everlasting memories inscribed in your brain
Burn incessantly, ashes flying up to heaven to touch unknown holiness
To touch the clouds in a forbidden romance as if Romeo and Juliet
****** of Vietnam, what once destroyed bustling jungles is destroying my sanity
Burning me from the inside and out, a caged bird inside of me
My soul's last dying wish is to unlock the cage that my fate was sealed in
The skeleton key dangles in front of me hypnotically, drawing me closer to your poison that is disguised as aromatic perfumes
As I took my dying breath, from the smoke of sin rising from my skin, you touched my hand, only to let it slip as I pass into the light
I realized solely one thing: I was your victim, the job was done
I vanish, within your mind, to be consumed by the ruins of time as you move from woman to woman
mbm
335 · Sep 2018
Mama
Miranda Sep 2018
Mama, where are you?
While you hide in your addictive curtain
Behind the lines of white
Bottles of downed, forgotten memories
Behind the flick of a lighter, lighting up the stick of a left behind American Dream
Mama, where are you?
You walk in a catatonic manner towards an unknown point
Meandering away from your womb-borne responsibilities
Push me, pull me, smack me like a child's doll
But I am no doll, I am your womb-borne responsibility
Yet, you see me as a burden, an unwanted gift, an accident
Mama, where are you?
Daddy doesn't love you
Grammy doesn't love you
Grampy doesn't love you
Auntie doesn't love you
But do you think that addictive curtain does?
Mama, where are you?
As the light of a cigarette burns
As the dust blows into the air
As the bottle tips
The answers you seek are nebulous
Just like mine
mbm
298 · May 2020
I Am From
Miranda May 2020
I am from unrequited love
The kind of love that breaks hearts and shatters souls
I am from depression and anxiety
From anxiety attacks and depressive episodes lasting months at a time
To the suffocation of not being able to cry because you’re being told you’re dramatic
I am from self hatred, lack of self confidence and bullying
The aftermath of a divorce, the remnants of past lovers and dust of old memories
I am from the box of photos in the attic you dare not touch of a love you both regret and appreciate
The emotion wrenching violin crescendos you hear in a sad movie to the soft, high tones of a piano
I am from autumn leaves, hot cocoa and corn stalks in a field
From the color blue, which symbolizes both tranquility and sadness
The double standards of siblings and the constant need of perfection
I am from trauma and an array of abuse
From being screamed at for every little thing to feeling neglected
The perfectionistic habits I formed were far out of my control
The one thing I wanted became so far from my thoughts
I am from three brothers and crazy household
From playing in the yard to planting gardens
To playing nurse on everyone’s injuries
From the trumpet vines that weaved their way in and out of the fence in the back so artistically
I am from wearing makeup to hide my insecurities to covering up my body
Wearing loose clothes so no one saw my figure
From staring in my mirror and pointing every single imperfection out for hours on end before a shower
To ignoring the mirror because I knew what was there and I was tired of seeing no change
I am from culture shock
From a small town to a larger one, a practical city
What seemed normal to others was like New York City to me
I am from both daddy issues and mommy issues
From the lack of a mother to the practical absence of a father
From bottle clinks to aluminum cans everywhere
The scent of cheap beer, liquor and cigarettes
I am from being suffocated by society’s standards of women
From picking and choosing what to believe in
To being in constant fear of culturally appropriating when all I wanted to do was appreciate it
I am from being told to lose weight to a compulsive eating habit
Eating like I wouldn’t eat again since I was constantly hungry
Hunger and I became close friends in an eerie manner
I am from “you look good slim” to crying when I saw my weight on the scale
From googling how to fast and drinking nothing but water all day long
To becoming weak and shaky from my inconsistent eating habits
Battling myself for being both a foodie but wanting to lose weight so I could be seen as pretty
Being underappreciated by men since I didn’t receive attention from my father
I am from alcoholism
Borne from trying to salvage an already toxic marriage
Things being thrown, holes in the wall and screaming
Slurring became my second language even though I hated to admit it
From seeing my life flash in front of my eyes to having hands wrapped around my neck
Being hit made me fear hands and affection for many years
I am from fearing the slight change in someone’s tone of voice, tone of a message and someone becoming angry at any second
From volatile environment to lack of stability
Red and blue lights flashing in my windowpane to watching the rain fall down the glass
I am from manipulation and being told everything is my fault
One of the reasons I apologize so much
From wanting to commit suicide but never following through due to the fear of breaking people apart and passing on my sadness to others
The bleak interior of a mental hospital as a fourth grader to clutching a stuffed animal with all my might
From being told I’ll never amount to anything, i’ll become a teen mom and how dumb I am
To graduating high school with a 3.7 GPA and no children on my hip
Childhood curiosities led to a blooming art passion
The one thing that helped me from everything
I am from using art as a coping mechanism
Painting every paint stroke with every emotion
Molding clay, concentrating solely on that
Plasma cutting a heart out of an oil barrel
To sketching my emotions how I envisioned them internally
I am from bad memories fading in the wind like dandelion seeds
The wishes of pain going away to seeking love
I am from many lessons in life
From becoming true to myself to learning that not everyone is a true friends
That friends don’t always stay in your life forever even if you want them to
Promises aren’t meant to be broken
From learning my worth is not in pleasing men sexually
I am from seeking attention in the wrong places
Forming a drug habit to help me feel happy
Not everyone will be your fan to people will hate you when you’re doing good
Drinking my troubles away and sleeping all day long
Hiding in my bed all day and barely eating
I am from heartbreak
From not taking a shower for weeks on end, not taking care of myself and just staring into my phone screen
Hiding my emotions with an “i’m fine” to barely anyone noticing me breaking
Quivering vocal cords as I confess my sadness to someone, breaking down
I witness myself crumpling into a ball on the floor, screaming for the thoughts to stop
I am from college books to fixing cars
From trying my best and realizing it wasn’t for me
I am from seeking the approval of others, no matter how much it broke me
From seeing I was a broken piece of pottery
Thinking I was unfixable and the damage was beyond human fathomability
But what I am from made me into who I am
I am a beautiful Kintsugi ceramic piece
My cracks shine with gold
Making something broken into something beautiful
201 · Oct 2019
Chameleon
198 · Oct 2018
That One Love
Miranda Oct 2018
From the tops of trees, where there is a bouncing color of green
Is where that one love evolved
From chick to fledgling to adult
Like the opposite of a free bird, that is me
I am a caged bird, singing for that one love
From the dust of old memories, old laughter, old feelings that one brushes away to expose as new
Giving the memories of another to someone else, erasing what is into what was
The curls of black, eyes of brown
I try to donate the forgotten, dusty record of the feelings I once had to another
One with green eyes and curled hair, like you but then not
My eyes look around, seeing a sea of faces in my mind to see yours
As I thought, I forgot
The laughter of a forbidden love, two people with glittering faces of joy
The way I once looked at you remains there, imprinted as "normal"
I try to choose green over brown
But it is a struggle between concealing versus feeling
Why must this be so hard? I ask myself
Within my vessel, I don't know but externally, it is noticed
My desires to tell you versus to conceal due to anxiety
My internal ropes dangle me like a puppet
Telling me how to feel, how to live, how to feel for one person over another
I try to cut the ropes off of me, attempting to save the caged bird within my mouth
The feeble pigeon containing a note of dusty fingers with wings clipped
Clawing at my throat to escape, to be known, to be seen, to be noticed
I soon swallow the caged bird like my pride
Trying to conceal what I shouldn't feel, but failing miserably, yet it somehow works to where you don't notice
mbm
141 · Jan 2020
Blondie
Miranda Jan 2020
Guitar strings pluck to my heart beat
Hair wavy like the ocean, blonde assumptions of stupidity
No, a plethora of intelligence
An eloquent dialogue far from human thought
Nose scrunches, dimples of happiness
Your voice serenades my curiosity
Germanic essence of mountains and outdoors
Guitar vibrations beckon me to move even though I have no rhythm
Wooden grains of tender, innocent curiosity
Questions of both significance and insignificance
One day, our journey could become one by airplane
Luggage wheels thump against tiles, tapping into the silence inside
Finger nails strum my luggage handle like guitar picks
I see you, 6'2 and eyes of blue
Emotions flood inside like a chemical reaction
Pure sodium in a lake, an explosion
Car ride of endless laughter, street lights fade in and out
The door opens, leading into newfound memories
Oil sizzles off a pan, steam rises
An unforgettable night soon to come
Clever notes magnetize me further
Records play, retro music fills our moments, our steps in sync
Hand in hand, we begin to paint a relationship together
We fall into the bed, cuddling one another and chatting about our aspirations and dreams
My ear against your chest, I hear your heart echoing inside
The movie we were watching becomes background noise as our eyes meet
A yearning dilation as we smile
Moonlight leaks through the blinds
Lines from the blinds form pages for ourselves to fill
But instead of ink, we write with our actions
We write in a unique love language
Our lips connect like the last pieces of a puzzle
Hands wander around one another, tracing curves
Our curves different, reading different stories
Our eyes meet again, except I feel a firework show inside myself
Our lips etch a story wanting to be shared for generations
As our bodies become more and more bare
The TV noise fades into soft, slow music for sensuality
My stretch marks become like tributaries of the Mississippi
I beg you to express your feelings, since actions speak louder than words
Commencing a story of shadows in the moonlight, a rhythm of passion
Noises of sweet nothings
Soon we find ourselves asleep in the mess of sheets
You hold me against yourself lovingly
A night to never forget spills over into daylight
Sun leaking in, lighting up our glorious mess
We awaken with new curiosities
139 · May 2020
Wonderwall
Miranda May 2020
I can fathom a million possibilities
A million situations
A million lifetimes
But I always find myself thinking of you

Day in and day out, from dusk till dawn
No matter the hour, minute or second
No matter the situation or mood I’m in
You still somehow wander through my mind

I see you exploring every inch of my mind
Peeking into every crevice and every book
All the nooks and crannies within me
You find all the secret doors through my castle

You find the incessant tributes to my past
Missives containing more rage and depression then my eyes reveal
I see you and you see me
You look through the slideshows of memories

The memoirs to my lost loves
Chronicles of abandonment
Accounts of mental illness
Tomes containing the confusion I walk in

Your brown eyes peer deeply into the cerulean sea
You dive into the flooded catacombs of my mind
Explore the wreckage I was borne into
I think about you all the time

I think about the infinite capacities of the past, present and future
From walking down an aisle to declaring my love for you in front of both of our meager family and bountiful friends
To creating a fruit of our love
You plant good vibes into my mind
Give me a newfound confidence
Through boudoir photos and sweet nothings
You chase me through every world I’ve created for myself
But when you grab me, I don’t flinch and cry

Instead, I let you gaze into my eyes
The hurricane of emotions you witness whirling around
From worry to love
From frustration to happiness

You speak eloquently to me
Well formulated passion speaks volumes
Our first kiss was more powerful than a supernova
It felt so much more different

I didn’t have to be vigilant of your words
For the first time in nineteen years, I believed your love
I believed in what I considered to be beautifully impossible; love
The mystery of love is something perhaps we cannot solve, yet we yearn for

— The End —