i look up at the moon
wondering if you're seeing the same
or if you're seeing the sun
but one day
we will see the same
we will be under the same roof
in the same bed
who use to see different
i felt embarrassed writing this.
i sent you a text at 3pm asking how youve been
you read it at 3:39 pm
you replied at 3am saying you were missing me
do not ever ask permission to start a revolution
ive seen things through other peoples eyes
but now it is time
that i go out and venture into the world
with the two i have been gifted
i need to see this stuff on my own and have my own opinion on things
i am scared
of what you all think of me
that i am not real poet
that what i create is not good enough
that what i write is not valid
"this is not what you call poetry!
this is just a sad sad tale
called your life"
i dont know where this is all coming from but i just started feeling really insecure in all of my work all of a sudden...
i am living in a suit
i have been for quite sometime
the real me is underneath
but i cannot break through
this has become apart of me
that i cannot get rid of
i cannot retire from this suit
and this is because
your words like poison
your words so addicting
"i love you"
but i should have known that your poison
would strike my heart
right after my brain
the breeze gently caresses my hair
they freeze my tears, and any tears threatening to flow out
this time of year always makes me the saddest,
yet the cold weather always finds a way to try to cure my sadness
since you have not been here to take that role anymore
maybe i am just trying to find ways to comfort myself this fall
but i can feel the cold wind hug me
letting me know that its okay that you're not here
because now i have discovered a new friend
a new partner
it is no longer you and i
it is i and the world
i wrote this back when it was fall
tonight the moon looks particularly big
I look up and smile
it feels so close but yet is so far away
I stand on my tiptoes and reach for the sky,
knowing full well that
I will never be able to reach it
to reach the moon
I will have to take great lengths
to reach there
I will have to change myself.
prepare myself for the trip up there
but it is so close
why can’t I just reach it?
why can’t it just come down here?
oh, how foolish of me to think this
something so beautiful could never
and would never come down here
especially for me
maybe I am not speaking of the moon
maybe I am speaking of you
but both things are so far away
I will never reach either of you
but honestly, id go to the moon and back for you.
roses are red
violets are blue
ill never love someone the way i love you
not all roses are red
and violets will never be blue
ive come to realize
that youll never love me the way i love you
it amuses me
when people assume that i ooze with
when i am
the unknown fellow
their parents are always
comparing them to
this girl told me her parents kept comparing her to this girl who has has honor roll since 6th grade (me) and i talked to them on awards night. now they compare her to me. she thinks im dumb and talks badly of me. she said shes had a couple of mental breakdowns bc of this mystery girl they keep comparing her to. i feel bad but also ******* for calling me a dumb ugly ***** who deserves to die :)
a flower has bloomed.
you cherish it. you water it, give it so much sunshine.
you give it all of your attention.
but as time passes this flower has begun to change color.
its losing its beautiful bright color and is becoming dry.
could it possibly be dying?
no you won't accept it.
it will not die, as it brings you so much happiness.
you will not let this flower go.
but despite all of your efforts, one by one, each petal falls.
until finally, there is nothing at all.
how could this have happened?
you watered it and gave it all the sunshine it needed.
why did it not stay?
it knew how happy it made you but still
but one day you witness another flower bloom
one that was exactly like the last
but could it die again?
will it make you so happy for it to one day just die?
you don't trust it anymore, as it broke your trust last time.
it left you.
it hurt you.
how could something so beautiful just wither away?
this is why i don't love.
because one day it'll die.
just like my flower.
My heart immediately yours, you held it in the palm of your hand
I knew that I was falling, but I never came to realize which type.
There are 2 types of falling.
Falling in love, to which we all stay up till the early hours of the morning fantasizing about.
And then there is simply just falling.
Our hearts are fooled by love... they are too innocent to acknowledge the falling.
But oh we are falling.
Falling off cliffs, mountains, planes, trees, clouds...
We can be falling off many different things.
But there is always one result of this falling.
Our hearts are demolished.
It is broken into many pieces.
"How could they let this happen?"
"How could I have been so foolish?"
"Why, oh why, was my kind heart treated like this?"
There is nothing you can do now.
You fell and the pieces are too scanty to put back together.
"I cannot fathom how they broke my precious heart."
"I cannot believe that they broke it. "
"It is I who handed them my heart."
"It is I who broke me. "
"It is I who will love never again.
the blood from my gashed wound
has always been the ink to my poems
we all were humans until
race separated us
the money in our bank accounts classified us
religion divided us
we all bleed the same
so why cant we see the same?
i open my eyes and see darkness
i try to move but i cannot
i scream for someone to notice me
but no one hears
that i am in a dark cave
inside the deep corners of my mind
ive been very sad lately and i am not sure why or how to feel better
the heart is fragile
there is a reason its shielded by a cage
the heart needs the eyes of a person
who knows love
so do not hand such a delicate thing
into the hands
of the blind
was like a lullaby
that put me
into a peaceful sleep
you are an absentee
i sleep unperturbed
because my lullaby
is the only one
that i need
there was so many ways i wanted to word this and i feel like i could write this 10 different way and they would all have a different meaning. but thats the cool thing about poetry. it can mean whatever you want it to mean. i could think it means this and you could think it means that. and its not like one or the other is wrong, because everyone thinks differently so i could have a different perspective on something from you or the next person. just a thought.
to 5 minutes
to 5 hours
to 5 days
that love is the only thing
that money cannot buy
but love is the only thing
that can buy the wealth
of my sanity
lately all ive been writing is related to love but im not even in love
— The End —