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Makayla Jordan Dec 2020
all my joy has
been thieved from me
i have sat and compared and
looked up and down
examining beautiful girls
im supposed to look like them
but no
my joy has been thieved from me
Veritia Venandi Nov 2020
A brief sense of history takes over my olfactory lobes
Sniffing, I smell ancient burnt bricks and lime mortar
My hands reach for the uneven floor piled with ages of dust and the ragged walls portraying a dull grey...
Reminiscent of the times lost and stabbed by cruel hands of destiny...
Pieces of carvings of flowers and animals lay scattered on the frozen grounds
An eerie stillness presides over them causing my heart to tremble in an unknown sorrow...
Statues, full and broken seem to lay all over as if knocked out by the ravages of time...
What enigma is this time? Like a vain ruler, it rules over the ruin...unaffected by the lost happiness of this once glorious kingdom...
Darkness is the new king and silence the queen
That reigns terror in this empty palace day and night
Roots seem to have penetrated into its giant stone of a heart...
And wild birds have found a shelter in its once forbidden chambers...

I wander aimlessly pondering over the sights I see...

The full moon shines on my face through a crack in the roof...
As if wondering about the purpose of my visit into this empty land
I remain silent feeling the chill of mystery that surrounds my soul...
I suddenly realise that I feel solace in this vacancy... That same vacancy tries to reign over my heart... shredding it into pieces...
Maybe that is why I can so much sympathise with this non living entity...
It is as if my mind and the mind of this ancient structure are one and the same...
We seem to connect to each other, like old lost friends...
For who better can understand the essence of a ruin other than the one whose life feels like a ruin...

Tired I lay over it's bare ground feeling the memories of the days gone by...The ringing laughters,the shedded tears ,the spilled secrets and the peace lost forever...

Time passed over on the wings of a bat...
And finally an ancient sleep took over...!
Just a fictional write!
I wrote it out of my love for ancient places:)
Thank you so much for stopping by and taking the time to read! ❤❤
Ces Sep 2020
A tight, hot knot
strangles my insides
Constricting my chest
crushing my heart
until it shatters...

"Not good enough"

Such thought, accursed!
A loop of torment
Placed by the devil
Inside my head.

When will this self-flagellation
come to a halt?
annh Sep 2020
Beauty is not favoured by comparison.
Does that make sense? I’m not sure. Do I mean that we tend not to see the ‘beauty’ in ourselves? Definitely. Do I mean that what is considered ‘beautiful’ by the majority nullifies the minority’s perspective? Probably. Do I mean that ‘beauty’ does not always demonstrate generosity or humility? Maybe. And why have I used inverted commas? No idea. It appears that B-E-A-U-T-Y is easier to appreciate than it is to define.

‘When she transformed into a butterfly,
the caterpillars spoke not of her beauty,
but of her weirdness. They wanted her
to change back into what she always
had been. But she had wings.’
- Dean Jackson
colette alexia Aug 2020
It couldn’t have been more predictable
That you fell for her
And everybody knows
And I’ll let it go
But it still hurts

You’ve really got a thing for us Midwest girls
And distance
Which you chose
Though you and I
Could never make it work
Wither Bloodfall Jul 2020
It takes one hand to hold
One body to grow
One soul to feel
One mind for goals
It takes an opinion to take a stand
a voice to set forth command
Two eyes for us to see
the cold and distinct reality
we all live and breathe
bleed the same blood
eat the same food
makes the same mistakes
learn in the same way
lie in the same way
we venture we act
so allow me to ask
Why not treat each other
the same?
To place a simple comparison upon such an overarching problem within the societies around the world. Take the mind of those around you and overall, treat others not as if they're tools for those who desire them but treat them like you treat yourself. Stand in the same shoes and see through the same eyes of the reality that woman intake to daily life.
Savonte Jul 2020
Sometimes I feel too big
And other times too small.

Sometimes I feel too short
And other times too tall.

My face within the mirror,
Why must you be so round?

Why must you look so ugly when
You smile and when you frown?

Tiny teeth that don’t shown when I speak,
I will you large in vain.

And hair why must you be so short?
Unruly little mane

Skin of mine, you are too dark.
There’s no place for you here.

No place for you in beauty or love-
You have much reason to fear.

Body and face of mine, are you mine?
I start to disconnect.

In a world where other girls are so very pretty,
Why did God make me this wreck?
kiran goswami Jul 2020
The only difference between
black and white
is that
The danger hiding within black is visible,
while the danger within white is not.
Aghast was the feeling within,
the moment I heard saying,
"The grudge in me never ceases,
If I look at you, it upsurges."
What was that? Hatred or Jealousy?

Together we grew,
Together we played,
Together we enjoyed,
But she was loved more.
What was that? The age or Comparison?

Appreciated for her appearance,
Admired for the best smile,
Pampered for the sweet talks,
Gradually grew the inner bitterness unaware,
Igniting in her, the spark of arrogance uncompared.
As I was placed ever in contradiction.
What was that? Seed of praise or despise?

The child in us possessed the love,
while in the name of maturity the gap stretched,
The silence took deep breaths
Between each conversation
We, the alike thinkers
Now parted with difference.
The daughters of two sisters,
Misunderstanding cultivated the distress.
What was that? Distance or Belief?

The question still perplexed
Whose fault was that?
The childhood innocence ripped with arrogance?
The comparison that planted the vengeance?
But ultimately, it is the misconception established with pride.

Now after these many years,
the love in me for her never faded
but grew more when we by chance interacted.
What was that? The pure love or move on?

Having the belief that our thoughts were alike,
My heart ceased not to pour my inner feelings,
As my childhood pal, my sister, my twin.
But still the ignorance in me continued to control,
My maturity to understand the completely changed person.
It took sometime to get in my senses
that her eyes looked hither and thither
with lies unrelated,
and conversations proposed,
not to share but to grasp
whenever connected virtually.
What was that? A changed self or Gossip Monger?

The vengeance inside gradually
turned to revengeful remorse.
And the love had turned to blame,
With pierce striken words she poked
Of accusations and falsehoods,
But none seemed to disturb me.
What was that? Mellow in me or Her immaturity?

With composed tone, I did stand for me,
confidently, a new me,
neither raised my voice,
nor reacted losing my poise,
but assured that in her life,
"Never could you forget to remember me and never, remember to forget me."
What was that?
A blessing from a mellowed soul.

Comparison is a needle, if sewn with a positive thread, would bestow a Mellowed soul.
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