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bee careful May 23
Human, caring, sweet, and true
These words mean a lot to you
I am not who I say I am
Everything you know about me is a sham

One, Two Three,
Why do you believe in me?
Four, Five, Six,
I'm no more than a pile of sticks

My rhymes are childish
And so are my thoughts
Everything I say
Comes out ******* in knots

This is not a poem
Nor is it a song
This is not a story
Yet you keep singing along

Why can't you leave?
Why must you stay?
Why must you sit there,
day after day?

Waiting, whispering, hoping, crying
Begging that this won't be my final letter
Holding tight onto that sweater
Praying that we'll last forever
Wishing that you could have done better
read it again but as a nursery ryhme. what do you think this nursery rhyme is about?

It wasn't your fault.☀️❤️‍🩹
People only look for what has been lost, when they remember it is missing
bee careful May 23
WHAT WILL IT TAKE
TO MAKE YOUR TOUCH GO AWAY
I CANNOT SHED MY RUINED SKIN
IS THIS THE END OR DID YOU JUST BEGIN?

I WANT MY BODY BACK
I WANT MY LIFE
I WANT MY HEART BACK
I WANT MY KNIFE

MEMORIES AND SCARS
DECORATE MY BRAIN
REGRET AND STARS
CALM THE PAIN

SNAKES FEAR ME
DOGS LOVE ME
I AM NOT ME
YOU HAVE RUINED ME

I AM ROTTING INSIDE AND OUT
I PEEL MY SKIN AND BURN MY TONGUE
JUST TO FILL THE HOLE THAT YOU DUG
JUST TO FORGET WHAT YOU HAVE DONE
you deserve to rot.
bee careful May 21
Mr. Selfish loves himself
He doesn't care about anyone else
All he does is spew spew spew
About how much better he is than you

Mr. Selfish is a liar
He doesn't care if your mind is on fire
All he cares about is himself
And couldn't give a **** about anyone else

Mr. Selfish pretends to be sweet
He fools everyone into thinking there's nothing to defeat
If you are hurt he wouldn't cry
In fact he'd laugh and wish you'd die

Mr. Selfish is my name
I am evil and I am insane
All I care about is myself
Everyone else can go **** themself.
narcissistic episode
  May 20 bee careful
Mrs Timetable
I want to write
A little poetry book
Fitting in my pocket
To carry with me
With five little poems
One for each finger of your hand
Your hand that led me here
My muse
My blues
My cues
My heart tattoos
My infuse
So I will call it YOUs
I'm gonna do it. Watch me.
  May 20 bee careful
Cadmus
🚪

If your past knocks,
don’t answer.

It’s not here to talk

it’s here to wreck
what took you years
to rebuild.

Let it knock.
Let it wait.
Let it rot.

Just don’t forget:
some doors
are better sealed
forever.
This piece is a reminder that not every return deserves a welcome. The past, especially the parts you’ve outgrown, often carries the power to unravel healing. Strength lies not in revisiting, but in refusing to regress.
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