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Something Quiet Sep 2015
Green skin, skulled face,
Candy red? Or lime green?
I do not know,
Both, maybe.

Creature hatched from a sugary treat,
Eggshell sickly sweet.
I devour it,
Nothing remains.

I am no longer a creature,
Two sides split:
Lime green, candy red,
A sarcophagus as my bed.

I house a bloodbath.
Candy red soldiers
March across and slaughter
Lime green maidens
Weep and flee and cry out

I am but a cage
Housing opposing sides of colour
Who is winning?
Can you tell?

The deed is done.

I surrender.
The Muse has been struck down, space.
A mark left in her place.

I surrender.
The Lord has won this war, time.
I am no longer mine.
This is a poem I wrote a long time ago, based on a webcomic I read called Homestuck. It's from the point of view of the body that Calliope and Caliborn share, though it doesn't exactly have a consciousness.
Something Quiet Nov 2015
Tired eyes? Tired brain,
I'm not sick. I'm not insane.
You ask what's wrong, it's all in vain,
Since I'm not hurt. I'm not in pain.

Listen to me.

Weary smile? Weary heart,
I'm not sick. Not torn apart.
You say I lie, I say it's art,
Since I'm not used. I'm just not smart.

Listen to me!

Bitter tears? Bitter soul,
I'm not sick. Life takes its toll.
You want to help, it's not your role
Since I'm not cracked. I'm still a whole.

I said listen!

No.

Please.

Why?

I have something to say.

Go on.

You're sick. Stop denying it.
There's clearly something wrong.
It's all a lie and there's no art.
Let me help you heal.


No.

Please, let me help you heal.

No!

Before it's too late.

It already is.
I'm very cold today.
Something Quiet Nov 2015
When I say,
"I need a hug"
I don't mean those simple ones.

Those easy one-arm-over-one-arm-under,
Those awkward-pats-on-the-back,
Those that say I-don't-really-mean-it,
Those that reply this-makes-me-uncomfortable.

I don't mean them.

I mean clinging to you like a man to driftwood amidst a roaring storm,
I mean burying my face in your embrace to smother my frustration,
I mean being held tight enough to stop myself from falling apart,
I mean feeling safe from the world outside the shelter of your arms,

I need a hug.
I'm missing someone badly and I don't know what to do.
Something Quiet Sep 2015
My friend cut his hair.
Many weeks ago.
His hair was long,
But now it's short,
Much shorter than before.

My friend cut his hair.
It's softer to the touch.
I pat his head,
A gentle tap,
He didn't like it much.

My friend cut his hair.
It used to hide his eyes.
I see them both,
Like pretty jewels,
No longer in disguise.

My friend cut his hair.
It makes him different now.
His eyes light up,
His smiles are warm,
As warm as he'll allow.
A friend of mine used to have long, shoulder-length wavy hair and he got a haircut just before the summer holidays. I saw his new, much-shorter haircut in person a few days ago, and the change was so great I couldn't help making a tribute to it. A transition like that can really change a person.
Something Quiet Oct 2015
Don't assume they're blue, child
If they're not red like you
For there are other colours here
Like green and purple too

A yellow bright like sunshine
A brown like chocolate chip
A grey like rainy storm-skies
An orange salsa dip

A violet dark as nightfall
A white on mountain peaks
A silver-gold of starlight
A pink like blushing cheeks

A fuchsia flower garden
A green of grass and leaves
A black as dark as void-holes
A turquoise like the sea

See, there are many colours here
Like green and purple too
So don't assume they're blue, child
If they're not red like you
Today, I came up with the sentence "Don't assume they're grey if they're not as bright as you". It basically summed up how I realised I often view people and, with a few minor tweaks, it eventually turned into this.
Something Quiet Aug 2017
Snip, snip, I'll cut the bonds
I'll cut them til my friends are gone

I don't need you or you or you
Cuz face it, you don't need me too

You never cared 'bout what I say
Or how's my evening, how's my day

I'm not worth a thing, you see
A useless **** to you and me

I can't fix mistakes I've made
What I did, the price i paid

So snip, snip, I'll cut the bonds
I've cut them now, my friends are gone
I wrote this when I made new friends a while back, and started having paranoia about how everyone will leave me one day. I always thought I'd leave first to save the pain, though I never actually have the guts to.
Something Quiet Aug 2015
Sunlight, clocks, alarms:
They call for us, "Wake up!"
Convincing us to stumble out of bed,
Unwillingly,
As the bedsheets, the blankets, the pillows,
Are all we have.

Bosses, teachers, parents:
They call for us, "Now work!"
We persevere through the day,
Unwillingly,
Another coffee, another biscuit,
Are all we have.

Paperwork, homework, chores:
They call for us, "No rest!"
Barely surviving, we continue,
Unwillingly,
The hopes of evening, night, and stars,
Are all we have.

Eventually, it is another day over:
There is no cheer, only a sigh of relief.
We stumble to our beds, wondering,
Unwillingly,
When did we become,
Like this?
I didn't know what to post for my first poem... I guess this is okay?

— The End —