If my metaphors
were pennies in a jar..

I would have
       only a button

resting upon its side.

But though the holes
the sun does glimmer...

And four rainbows
              birth from those
hollow moments of contemplation ...

We don't need riches to show
             how colourful our words

can be..

But I do always wonder where the
                    button that held in my
analogies  
                              popped off too.
As  I'd eaten to many metaphors
                                             before lunch..

And the coffee was cold
so was He

i want to feel again
i want to be able to write again
i want to put my feelings into words
but whenever I write, there's nothing
and i'm reminded that i don't feel anything anymore

Am I offering myself a knife to the heart?
Have I unsheathed my dagger?
I think not, I think not
Have you accepted your role, your part?
Would you admit your weakness, your stagger?
I think not, I think not

Deprecate my sense of taste and saunter away
Did you think I'd lay down and take it?
I think not, I think not
Putting my life on hold every single day
Did you think I could fake it?
I think not, I think not

My soul is music, and my heart is sound
Could you feel my past haunting your remark?
I think not, I think not
I looked for your empathy, it couldn't be found
Did you care if your words were stark?
I think not, I think not

Let me tell you this one time
Will you listen to such a girl?
I think not, I think not
What's been taken, was always mine
Did you notice when you broke my world?
I think not, I think not...

I almost forgot what i had but you know? they say plants do have memories i once really thought they were all lame until the roses we planted reminded the rich lucile
Love and lush we festered onto them.

Its not what our bodies lose when we die, its entirely the only thing that we risk when we choose to fall in love.

Love may be bright and beautiful but its also the one thing that can make everything ugly and broke. Kingdoms Men and all of creation bleeds before the surreal feeling of love.

Muddy footprints, and the howling moon,
This forest welcomed me,
With the mist cuddling around
and the silence drumming noises

Seeking my way, reached that log,
deforested! Missing it's fruit!

This log, I sat on,
and brushed my bruises and wounds
While I was covering
unknown routes

This log, broken and sad
proved it to me
that heartbroken ones,
missing their fruits,
once the parts of them,
are the most helpful
and the only who wipe our tears
in this evil, unknown world

I have been conditioned by toxic people previously in my life,
that I was not good enough because of my quiet nature,
because I would rather keep to myself than be in the limelight,
because I am introverted,
because I am not like other girls who 'crave attention' - but rather the opposite.

They made me believe no one would ever like or even date me,
that no one will ever love me because of my 'different and unusual personality'

They broke me,
ruined me.

But they will never know, as they go on to live their lives and leave me in the mud - as I live on hating myself.