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eliana Jun 21
If I could take a brush and paint the mountains and the moors,
I would splash the hillsides yellow and cover them in gorse.
I'd take the finest needle and the darkest thread of green
And sew a line of bracken along the landscape. In-between

I'd lay a purple carpet of wild heather in the dells
And fringe the edge of all the woods with their pretty lilac bells.
I'd merge the bracken with the heather, mix their colours like the sea,
A green and purple ocean on my own rich tapestry.

Then I'd take a ball of soft, white wool and stitch a mass of daisy chains
Around the lush green meadows and up the sides of winding lanes.
I would stencil on the marshes, just like pure white china cups,
Some fragile water lilies and by the ponds, sweet buttercups.

I'd mix orange, reds and yellows planting poppies wild and free
Onto nature's coloured canvas, my own rich tapestry.
ash Jun 14
i think
this is perhaps the first time
i came and picked up my laptop,
sat in front of the blank screen,
with the pointer blinking back at me—
and i realized i had so much to write.

about how the world was being unfair,
of how i was being lied to,
of how i was all by myself all again—
and that's what they wanted:
to isolate me after attachment.

and i don't know,
it didn't hurt the way it used to.
i relapsed, kinda—
but i realized i'd healed much more.
and even though it's surprising,
i just don't know how to pen it down.

i was watching the recent season of ginny and georgia,
and i found quotes and expressions and scenes that i related to—
like *******, like poetry is supposed to be form of self-expressing.
but i never knew how to do it in the first place.

and i've gotten better, i know—
but i lie on my bed,
and something's just so poetic about lying in the dark
with posters on my walls,
with pictures telling me to not give up,
to write, to be creative—
and i do all these things just to stop thinking at all.

like, i have my hair open
and it's the second day since i washed them.
i'd changed the day schedule—
it seems kinda nice, like not a repetition for once.
and my mum's showering,
i'm in my room,
the air conditioning is on—
the heat outside is unbearable.

i received a text from a random person asking for my socials,
and i'm perhaps the first in this generation
to not use a social.

i bathed my bunny today,
she's kinda angry at the fact—
but i know she'll round that. she always does.
she just doesn't like water,
but she needs it.

like i don't like to live and be surrounded
by people who don't want me,
but i have to fake it.

that's kinda simple.
but it's hard to accept—
like the brutal kinda truths that seem to reflect my own insides
and i just have to let them.

and every time i look into the mirror,
i imagine who i can be.
but to be that person,
to be the me in the mirror—
it's just— i don't have a way yet laid out in front of me.

i've got no prompts today—
perhaps i'll ask for some, look around and always return
to write back in here.
but sometimes i wanna write just nothing at all.

like write it out,
but it's about nothing—
just things that are so normal
that they don't even seem to matter.

you won't see someone writing about breathing
until they know the lack of it during a panic attack.
you won't see someone writing about a heartbreak
unless they've been through that.

and they could write from the experiences of others—
but first, you have to experience.

and i don't know,
i'm perhaps getting somewhere—
but that isn't even necessary, at all?
right?
like, i can exist,
and i don't have to make a big point out of it— all times.

i can be breathing,
be listening,
be wanting something but not knowing what i want exactly.
and i could be just in the zone of comfort
without having any comfort at all.

but it's just— hard to define, to put in words.

i had no thoughts when i came here,
but right now i type,
and i watch myself type,
and i see the words coming to life
and i want to keep going on and on and on and on
until the cycle just never stops
and i can keep on speaking and speaking
and somehow get it all out—
all that i've felt, or all that i keep feeling.

and i could write my past down
but i don't have any memory unless it's triggered—
i'm just— like a total black space
with no stars either.

and i'm running out of metaphors
and i'm afraid that i won't have this writing skill of mine.
that's kinda one of the fears.

the second is to show people i truly hear—
and see, and watch as they go ahead
and do the things that will have me lost—
far, far away from them.

and i wonder if they even see then—
that i can be the one they need,
but to be someone that i need,
myself, with me—

i just read a quote that said
"life's easier if you have even just one good friend,"
and i have had— one of those, always and now and then—
but i kinda seem to always lose it all.

and that's alright,
because somehow, you find a way—
but i can't still go to these good friends of mine,
and talk to them—

another thought—
if you can't find a reason to be,
become the reason yourself.

just got a random thought that could be a big quote
and now i'm being gaslighted—
is this thought my own
or did my brain pick it up from somewhere
and threw it in the open for more?

poems don't always have to have an ending—
well, they do.
but that's what i tell myself
when i can't find an ending suitable enough
to fit in the already written words.

and then i realize,
the infamous line from the series i'm currently watching:

"listen or don't, i don't care—
that's life right?
things don't always have happy endings.
or even endings.
it's not fair like that.
we're just left hanging
and we don't know what's gonna happen.
we don't even know what really did happen.
so all we can do is decide to just not care."


"i think you do care.
when you wrote that poem, you wanted an ending.
you crave resolution.
you want things to make sense.
and sometimes they don't.
and that frustrated you,
so you frustrated us, the listeners.
you pushed us away.
oh and that's the name of the poem by the way,
'ending'."

i'm just kinda roughed out at the edges
is it adhd?
Breeze Jun 8
Mahogany eyes
Express joy, desire, and grief
Those which I behold
Some People
Today
have a
Circle of Friends,
with a
Tight-knit bond,
a Friendship
that never ends,
just to hang out a bit,
to spend
a night on the town,
A Circle of Friends,
a Good feeling to be around,
Your Friends, Associates,
Compadres, and your pals,
just to catch
up with them,
and to socialize
for a while!!!
A small
circle of friends
would do
you some good,
keep your
circle of friends
small, and
as best as you could!!!!!


B.R.
Date: 6/6/2025
I opened that notebook again,
After ages I picked my pen.
Pressed strength on my wrist,
Gave my hand a gentle twist.

Scribbling through, I went on
In the world where ink lace spun.
But it was different from what I knew,
This ink was of a different hue.

And I flipped the pages back
A glimpse of me in the ink stained rack
The letters were bolder, deeper even
They held power higher than I now sustain.

And so I closed my notebook again,
It's ink wasn't in my own pen.
And I closed the lid once more
Let it sit where it was, before.
The ink wasn't mine to use,
It wrote a story where I couldn't fuse
(H)ostile towards those that you envy
(A)ntagonistic, oh, yes there are plenty
(T)oxic like poison is, What you are
(E)gos are so high that you can reach the stars
(R)efusing to be Happy, feeling so blue
(S)pitefulness is showing all over you


B.R.
Date: 5/17/2025
I Am a Blessing, and
you are too,
The Lord has done
so many great things for you,
yes, it's true!!!

You are a Blessing,
Less catastrophe, and
less stressing
He allowed you to see
a brand new day, and
started you on your merry way!!!

I Am a Blessing,
I Am a Testimony,
I have been though a lot,
Oh, can't you just see!!!

I Am a Blessing, and
You should feel the same,
You got a lot to be thankful for,
I claim this in Jesus name!!!

You are a Blessing,
I just wanted you to know,
Keep your trust in Him, and
From this, you will grow!!!!


B.R.
Date: 5/16/2025
the days between our distance stretch longer than those palms once held together.

remind me, since when did we start to loosen our grips over them?
Joss Lennox Apr 4
connection begins,
where fear ends.
don't be afraid to put your creativity out there!
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