I often find myself seeking validation from words that were never written for my tongue

Caging myself behind walls made of letters still undefined

pacing the corners of my fears wondering what is being said in another’s mind

I run from the words that define my faults, disowning them and leaving them behind

But I still carve them into the crevices of my skin, to remind myself of everything that I’ll never be

Then, I write a stranger's name beside them so that I can blame someone else for my insecurities.

I don't know what will happen
In the world of tomorrow.
So today, I'll do my best
With the time I've borrowed

By Arcassin Burnham

this is so lovely and this is so weird with Nature's intention for humans
to fear,
I never had problems with anyone here,
They came up so ignorant , but will cry
tears,
the people are sluggish and drowning in sorrows,
there are no handouts ,from me you can't borrow,
you speak ill of my name then I won't hesitate
to let these motor hands go, leave you
slump though.
If I didn't know better , I would say these
are the worse days.
Did enough harm and now to me you can
not phase.
Tired of not using my brain to get out of this life.
I'm pretty chill today got nothing to do on the side.

Once upon a time, you gave me your heart. Wrapped in light pink, and blotches of dark ink, you wrote that you wanted me to keep it. I clutched your heart into my chest -
I didn't ever want to let go. I didn't ever want to return it.

But I saw that you were now giving pieces of yourself to other people - laughing and whispering forbidden promises, then you let me fall out of your list of priorities. I no longer am able to feel what you feel. I no longer can feel the happiness and will. You let me there alone, standing still.

So I walked up to you in my worn out shoes that used to be filled with pride, and I wrapped your heart in transparent paper. Let other people see the light pink that flows every time your heart beats, let them know how beautiful it is.

I return your heart to its respectful owner.

You ask, "why?"

I say, "I don't deserve it."

I’ll borrow the past With nothing to spare
Nothing to give, and nothing to share
But rather I’d hope to steal my youth
And run from the future back to you
Some place we could hide in the shade of today
And disappear before a new day
And I know that when I’ll open my eyes
another day would have passed me by
You’ll only be a memory never to last
So instead I’ll keep dreaming of borrowing the past

Borrow only from the future so that it will have more to lend.

Everyone can be their own poet
and write as much as they want
and at times they borrow words
the words that caught their heart

But to borrow is to ask first,
to borrow is to give credit to the owner.
Because in the first place,
those words were never yours.