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May 2015 · 1.2k
Ryla May 2015
i was handed a bouquet of roses
already wilted and black
but i painted them red
and lied to the world
saying they were beautiful

the rot followed me wherever i went
no one else could recognize the scent
so i sprayed perfume
and told myself they'd be alive tomorrow

soon the paint chipped away
and the perfume wore off
and i was left with these
terrible, horrible, wilted

i brought them to my mother
hoping she had a remedy
but instead she pulled a bouquet of roses
from behind her back
and they were as terrible
as horrible
and as wilted as mine
but she told me they were beautiful
because as they wilted
she stayed alive
Jun 2014 · 557
out the classroom window
Ryla Jun 2014
blades of determination, growing taller, even as they die
the crunch of broken lives
made of dry, empty, lonely, lost souls
bent, broken, gone
i'm going to ruin this poem by admitting it's about grass
Jun 2014 · 1.9k
crescent moon smiles
Ryla Jun 2014
crescent moon smiles
light the path ahead
‘we’re all mad here’
laughed the voices
in your head

strange creatures of Wonderland
transform before your eyes
nothing is the same
because everything that you think is real
is a lie

don’t pretend you have any control
we all know you’re insane
follow the rabbit hole
down to Wonderland
get lost in the madness
let it enter your veins
Jun 2014 · 4.4k
cloudy days
Ryla Jun 2014
idle, shiftless, indolent
not a care in the world
a white oblivion
of simple, peaceful, blissful

looming, threatening, impending
charged with energy
electricity just
hours away
gray consciousness
and lazy days

hair-raising, spine-chilling, nerve-racking
strikes of pure shock
mother nature’s roars
reverberating off the blackened firmament
drops of liquid vigor
crashing to the ground

— The End —