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Lilly F Aug 19
I found the pieces of me that were left
and carried them in the tired bags left underneath my eyes
wanting so badly to leave it all behind
and rest

arii nyx Apr 10
You pulled back your fishing pole and cast the line.
Me, being the fish in the equation, bit the bait on the line.
I waited and waited, day and night, to be pulled in.
Waited to be caught, waited to be yours.
But that day never came.
I swam up to the surface to see if you were still there.
The line had been cut and you were nowhere to be found.
I let go of the bait and I sat and waited for another to come around.
But they would just do the same each time until you came along.
You were my one.
You pulled back your fishing pole and cast the line.
Me, being the fish in the equation, bit the bait on the line.
You reeled me in and set me in a bucket with many other fish that you had caught.
I thought you were the one, my one.
But you did what all the others had done, except for making me suffer.
I am not able to breathe, not able to think.
Unable to move, unable to sink.
I am unable to do anything.
The ones who cut the line and left me in the water to thrive knew better than you who pulled me out of the water to die.

You see, in actuality, I am not the fish and you are not the fishermen.
We are just two individuals with a whole lot of baggage and a whole lot of insecurities.
You don’t like your smile, you don’t like your body.
I don’t like my body, I don’t like how my face looks.
We don’t talk outside of social media and that was the issue,
Because I fell for this fake persona, who wasn’t you.
We talked about everything, had so much in common, and now we have nothing.
We had a pact, to never leave one another unless the other wanted, but that didn’t last.
We made promises, but we took them back.
It would never work, and we knew that.
I forgive you for leading me on and being a siren, singing a sweet, yet soul-crushing song.
And after all, somehow I still love you, but I can move on.
samara lael Mar 22
i need to get out. out.
but do you know that it´s that conversation
that keeps me captive?

you don’t.
and i mean, how could you?
when you were right:

about not being meant to be.
& a part of me hates that phrase.
meant to be?
i mean i believe there could be
many ‘meant to be’ relationships.
maybe “ours”
wasn’t one.  

but your. choice. of words.
your method of saying. or not saying.

agreeing with me?
when you know
that that is never
a way of telling someone.

i may be crazy.
but i am not that kind of crazy.
& bringing the opinions of your friends in?

i guess you did go there.

i’m the kind of crazy that cries,
but doesn’t stalk insatiably.
the crazy that has past pain,
but does not use it to manipulate.
the crazy that gets hurt,
& clearly the kind that drives you away.

i liked you despite your difficulties.
& i know you didn’t owe me anything like that, because ultimately it was your choice.
but it did hurt what you said.

i liked you because you seemed so much more different than those who would tell you
i am crazy.
but maybe not.
when i said that other people would see me as “a crazy b*tch”,
i never said that i thought that about me.
but by confirming that’s what your friends would say,
& by making me feel i was?
maybe it was for the best.

this is the part where you would say
that that is what i felt
& not what you said or did.
that i can’t blame you.

i know that.
& i am not thinking you are the bad guy.
quite the opposite actually.

i just know
that anyone
who makes me feel that way
whether it be intentional,
or simply coincidental,
it’s a feeling that doesn’t go away
& that when they make me feel like that,
i need to reconsider my distance.

& how could you have known
that that is how i felt?
you aren’t stupid,
& you could see that i was hurting,
& you know the decent thing to do.

it may be my fault for feeling that way
when that wasn’t your intention (?),
but i did feel that way,
& i never wish that upon anyone
(it crushes your soul, just a little bit each time you think of it).

& i most definitely have never been in the situation
where someone would feel like that
after the words i had said
or not said.
i want to dedicate this to anyone who is labelled a crazy b*itch for having baggage, a mental illness, or for simply having emotions; you don't deserve the hurt that people make you feel.
arii nyx Mar 18
after all the hardships i have endured within this life,
i have tried to fly,
but this baggage has become too heavy and i cannot seem to reach the sky .
the baggage, i cannot leave behind,
it has since clipped my wings and has left me unable to fly,
wondering why .
i thought i was supposed to grow into this beautiful butterfly .
Empire Mar 12
Why are my burdens so heavy?
I packed my bags light
But so many people thought
I needed this or that
And they threw in more
And some of their own, but
Life itself is mostly responsible,
I suppose,
For, most of my bags
Are nothing more than
Consequences of
Bad luck
Maybe I just need to get stronger...
David Berger Mar 5
Why am I this and why am I that?
Do you think I prefer staying oblivious to these questions?
I didn’t make myself, then why am I accountable?
What holds these answers if anything?

All I know is I’m here
I am who I am
I might change in the future
And I might be lying to myself about who I was before
But I’m all here now, and I have the power to look back

What am I?
Perhaps even attractive

What baggage do I carry?
Perhaps more and less than the average
Perhaps I have a brain cell or two to bring along
But no matter how hard I try, I’m still the person I was a second ago
And that is a life-long sentence
Just some soul-searching.
I keep saying,
"This would be so much
more bearable if..."
But maybe
it isn't supposed to be
more bearable.
Maybe I'll train
and find new ways
of bearing the load.
Maybe I'll feel
that much lighter and stronger
when the load is lifted.
Recovery sort of feels like
You're carrying a heavy backpack
Through an unforgiving snowstorm
You try to fight your way through
Just to reach your destination
Each step further, no matter how slow
Is still a step forward
Though, there are times you're exhausted
So you stop and rest for awhile
You stop but the storm doesn't
You freeze and then feel numb
If you sit too long you'll die
You just have to keep going
Even if the journey constantly feels like
You are walking towards you're death
Staying in the same spot will too
The only difference is
You have the chance to choose
You have the choice to change
You're more likely to live
When you don't stay the same
Jayde Jan 11
When you see me you would think i had the weight of the world on my shoulders
I look burdened
Weighed down
Each step taken is a struggle
Every movement heavy
That's how my body feels
It feels like weights are on my shoulders
It feels like sandbags are tied to my waist
It feels like my shoes are weighed down by bricks
My body is so heavy
All my effort
All my energy
Goes into putting one foot in front of another
The corner of my lips feels like it has barbells at the end
It's a chore to smile
Cheeks are sore from the strain
Every muscle is protesting
Why must i drag my weighed down body out into the world
Each finger has a weight
Every motion is weighed down
If you looked at me with xray goggles you'd see all the weight i carry
Each weight has a label
Each weight represents a pain
Each weight has something from the past, present, or future
When people say baggage they think of me
All this baggage
All these burdens
All this weight
I'm so heavy
How does one lighten the load
My back is crippled
My knees are buckling
My ankles are shaking
My head is a bowling ball
But i smile
I smile and try to make it through another day
I count the hours minutes seconds until I'm back in bed
Back in bed hidden from the world
Back in bed where my battered and bruised body can rest
Back in bed stripped down and exhausted
Because every day is a chore
All my energy is used getting out of bed
All my focus is used to make myself work
All my effort is used to put one foot in front of another
All my sanity is used trying to not let others see
Its almost impossible having a conversation
How does one speak when they can barely function
How can one speak when using all their strength just to stand
How can one speak when all they want to do is scream
Every day is the same thing
An endless cycle
It will never end
Get up
Star BG Dec 2018
I have come into life
carrying baggage from other lifetimes.
Slowly I filled luggage
with new experiences that now become like old clothes.

I come to stand tall at clock of 66 years
to purge that which is heavy on heart.
Absolve that which doesn't serve the divine being I am.

My cloths now are infused with threads of light and love.
My garments are now colorful and velvet soft to breath.  

My bag is now emptied, ready to fill with tapestries of smiles
and warm memories.
just thinking about all the baggage I have carried and still do. But I am working on it.
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