As small as a mouse,
As weak as a rose,
My soul had suffered as the silver wind blows.

Suffered from death?
Or broken like toys,
With warming hearts of little girls and boys.

Friends who betrayed,
Lies in my heart,
Deleting My Happiness, right from the start.

“Please, let me go”,
I said as my rose red cheeks faded,
They found my fragile body, killed by my hatred..

Well, this is sad..
Tessa Kaur Nov 28

i feel something shatter inside me
again. we could add a new note to this song
every time we hurt each other
and call it a symphony.
if you live inside my heart, you're
acting like a bull in a china shop.
you know i am too fragile for this, yet every time you
rear your head, something inside me must
break.

you are careless sometimes, so thoughtless,
but i am careless too.
every now and then, i forget
and i put on my red dress
out of habit.
how can i blame you
when i do it to myself?

I saw a God crying,
With tears turning into silver.
Curious, I started asking:
"Why does a God quiver?"

He looked at me with strange eyes.
Inside those depths are dancing dyes.
I could see a fatal sign
That this God is intoxicating; so divine.

I cannot make this God mine.
Someone so broken, needs the blessings of time.
But let me show you a crime.
Let me embrace you, hoping it will be just fine.

Zoie Marie Nov 22

“I pushed him away too. I hurt him. But if he can’t handle me at my worst he certainly doesn’t deserve me at my best. You gotta treat yourself as if you’re the finest most fragile piece of jewelry and take care of yourself“

Poetry isn’t always poetic my love
melanie Nov 21
Cut

I'm constantly
walking into blades
like I'm walking
through fields of flowers

exposed
those knives fit easily
in my glass heart

Mar Somera Nov 18

You are a garden
Growing between fragile bones
How lovely you are

Lynn Al-Abiad Nov 16

My anger is so vulnerable, so fragile.



- LynnAA

Always.

7/11/2017

Fragile rose and crystal clear.
Falling through my atmosphere.
Falling hard and falling fast.
Looking through my looking glass.

Fragile rose and crystal clear.
Find a way to disappear.
Falling hard and falling fast.
Running away from my past.

Baby, I know that you are here.
I can't explain it to you my dear.
They cut you open
and I watched you bleed.
Now I fall down to my knees.

I watched you bleed.
I watched you bleed
As I fell down to my knees.
I watched you bleed my fragile rose.

I thought I asked you not to cry.
You're  acting as if I just died.
I had my reasons to let you go.
Knocked you over
with a stubborn blow.

Pushed you down into your grave.
All I do is misbehave.
Talk g with me all the shame.
Playing my childish games.

I watched you bleed.
I watched you  bleed
As I fell down to my knees.
I watched you bleed my fragile rose.

Tatiana Oct 28

There are a series of drafts
that blow fiercely through the gaps
of the home of creativity.
Cooling the efforts
of the imaginative fire,
so that it no longer grows or glows.
The home's strength is tested
by its own scarecrow,
who should be out with the crops
to discourage other birds,
that can stop new growth.
But the straw-man persists
with his unequal arguments.
Tampering with emotions
inciting the fire to risky proportions.
And so the home of creativity
burns itself down.
Because it's walls are too weak
that some straw-stuffed clown
can overstep it's boundaries
and raze it to the ground.

© Tatiana
I firmly believe that creativity can be a great strength, but it can also be a great weakness. I think self-doubt or insecurities that create a distorted perception of how one sees their own work, that they refute the validity of what they've done based on work of others that aren't even doing the same thing as them, are part of it. Also, the idea of burn-out in response to strong emotons or inspiration add to that fragility.
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