I'm so happy.
A poem every day.
There came a poem on my feed,
“people are most vulnerable at two in the morning,
unknowingly desiring to spill their hearts and bleed.”
I was uneducated on this field, naive to it all.
It was a matter of time when being in isolation became an addiction; when early one in the morning was the normal hour.
Utterly enjoyable, I was filled with bliss;
There I experienced it myself; to spill strewn words of poetry;
poetry that frolics with empathy; the vulnerability of the heart.
What a milestone.
There are people with thousands of words published.
On this site.
On other sites.
Those books that were never recognized.
Those poor authors never got recognition for their works.
They worked so hard.
They tried so hard.
All for nothing.
Did they ever try again?
Why would they?
It could just end up the same way.
No one will care.
They'll regret their choices.
They'll wish for something better.
Their wish won't be answered.
At least, I think so.
Maybe it went a different route.
Maybe they did try again.
Maybe they succeeded.
Maybe they didn't.
Nothing will be enough.
No one will recognize your work.
Don't even try it.
ay I got to over 200 words bois
by using a bio degradable
200 years to
The human baby was
actually drinking it
inside a smart
That baby is
gene edited baby
who can drink
in one months also.
That suitcase was
following her mother
by artificial intelligence
and small camera.
That mother was
a half robot and
half human being.
You are the reason for countless,
sleepless nights where I lay awake
wondering what light you would bring.
You are the reason I had no imagination,
believing that no one could fill the gaps
and why each day came with a sting.
Unknown to me, who you were going to be.
You sang to me, so sweet! You make my dreams
weep with joy and sadness.
Unknown to me, you were everything
or nothing. Someone to depend on or destroy.
I've torn you down but you stand with me in the mess.
You helped me through everything,
good and bad, through my darkest moments when
self-harm and suicide didn't seem so bad.
You expected it back in return but when I couldn't
live up, you didn't leave you stayed
because you knew you were the only thing that made me glad.
This is for you, whoever you are,
thanks for being there. I know I don't say it much
but I don't know what I'd do without you.
This is for you, because I know you are truly
willing to forgive me and I cannot repay that
or even begin to.
Just remember I wrote this for you.
This is my 200th poem on here.
They think I suffer
From but one affliction;
But I enjoy it.
I would just like to announce that today I am officially two hundred days clean from cutting! :D
ink dipped tongue
every word he
she painted him
with hues of gray
leaving a piece
of her crumbling
soul in each
his sleepless nights
trying to find
to describe her
they were 2:00 am
to find love
in each other
— The End —