Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Vida 4h
I don't wanna be around people I have to explain it too
I wanna be around people who relate
Who get it
The struggle
I want to be around people who know what it's like to get their hair braided
Who knows what it's like when People touch your hair
Who know what it's like to weigh out whether or not you should fight back
Who know what it's like to have to change your vocabulary for someone
Who know what it's like to be the mean girl

Because it is a big deal.

You don't see it because it's not you
You don't see it because it doesn't matter to you
You dont see it because you aren't me

You don't know what it's like to get your hair braided
You don't know how it feels when people toch your hair
You don't know what it's like

For me it's not just touching my hair
It's treating me like I'm some exotic thing
It's making me the me the bad guy for calling you out, because your feelings got hurt
It's making sure not to use slang so I'm not "that kind of black girl"
It's being mean for speaking out

It's being around people who you have to explain this to.
kokoro 4d
When he tells me he can't get me a valentine till later,
its so bittersweet.
I love him for telling me so i'm not put down,
and I love how he thinks for me.
But it reminds me of every time i've gotten my birthday forgotten,
any holiday surrounding me,
forgotten,
and those words,
"i'll get you something later, i promise."
coming out of a desperate mans mouth.
It's not that i crave a gift
i really don't, i really don't care.
but how am i supposed to have trust in something that has been broken so many times?
how am i supposed to have trust when i've been pushed aside as a later thought?
Zywa 6d
With eyes like a deer,

so wide, the girl is hiding --


in stinging nettle.
Collection "It takes a lot of tries to make a début"
Evie Feb 9
She stands before the cracked glass pane,  
A shadow draped in whispers of pain.  
Eyes hollow, rimmed with a sleepless despair,  
She searches for someone—someone not there.  

Seventeen summers, yet no light remains,  
Her heart a battlefield of silent chains.  
Each dream she weaved has unraveled slow,  
A tapestry of wounds she cannot show.  

She burns with fire she cannot command,  
An inferno of thoughts she can’t understand.  
The passion inside is a chaotic storm,  
But the conviction to steer is shattered, deformed.  

Her voice quivers like a bird in the cold,  
The words she swallows, stories untold.  
She yearns to scream, to shatter the air,  
But silence binds her—she doesn’t dare.  

In her chest, an aching void resides,  
A hollow echo where hope once thrived.  
The weight of the world bends her spine,  
Yet she smiles—a counterfeit sign.  

Her mind’s a gallery of haunting art,  
Each frame a memory that tears her apart.  
The mocking laughter, the cold disdain,  
Echo like thunder, magnifying the pain.  

She drowns in mirrors that show her scars,  
Counting her flaws beneath dim-lit stars.  
The girl she sees is a stranger, a lie,  
An unwanted ghost she can’t defy.  

Her hands shake as she clutches the air,  
Grasping for meaning that isn’t there.  
Her thoughts are daggers, sharp and cruel,  
Each one branding her the eternal fool.  

She wishes to feel, but the numbness spreads,  
A frost that blankets her soul in dread.  
The warmth of joy seems lifetimes away,  
A flickering candle in endless gray.  

Why can’t she be the girl they demand?  
The perfect portrait, the steady hand?  
Why does her heart rage like the sea,  
When all she wants is to simply be?  

Her mind whispers lies in the dead of night,  
A chorus of shadows stealing her light.  
"You’re unworthy," they hiss, "You’re weak, a mistake."  
And she believes, as her fragile dreams break.  

The world moves on, unseeing, unkind,  
Leaving her drowning, trapped in her mind.  
Each day a struggle, a silent fight,  
Against the growing void, against the night.  

But buried deep in her battered core,  
A tiny ember fights to restore.  
Though faint and trembling, it refuses to die,  
A spark of defiance beneath her sigh.  

Yet she wonders, will it ever be enough?  
To mend the fractures, to grow from the rough?  
Or will she fade like a forgotten tune,  
Lost in the silence of a pale, cold moon?  

She stands before the cracked glass pane,  
Her tears falling like relentless rain.  
In her reflection, she sees her despair,  
And wishes for courage to repair.  

To the girl in the mirror, I write this plea:  
You are not your scars; you can be free.  
Though conviction falters, your soul still burns,  
And from the ashes, strength returns.  

But for now, she lingers in her pain,  
A storm-tossed ship in the cruelest rain.  
And as the world sleeps, she cries unheard,  
A broken melody without a word.
greatsloth Feb 6
She is that flower in pinkish-red hems
Blooming amidst the silent, withered stems;
She does not need any grace of water,
But pleased to tears that have fallen over

My hand trembles, I cannot pluck her roots—
She's too precious to be in worn-out boots;
Though it hurts, I'll hope there's a gardener
Who'll place her where light shines a bit kinder.
A fateful night,
I was restless,
Sleep fleeting my young eyes.
So I rose from bed,
And to my desk I sat.
My pen curled in my fingers,
I wrote.
I wrote of a girl,
Made of spare paper,
And discarded ink.
But never did I guess,
My writing would come true.
Yet come next morning before me lay,
A paper girl with inky eyes.
An ode to a character I made many years ago.
Jaz Feb 2
A little girl looks up at her mother,
She says “when I get older,
I want to be a doctor, or a poet,
A dancer, or a pilot,
A lawyer, or an artist,
A designer, or a pianist”.
Her mother tells her sadly,
“Baby, I want you to be happy,
And do all the things I couldn’t possibly,
And be all the things I could never be”.
nVm Jan 25
Weary, unnoticed sweat trickles down my shoulder,
Cool relief, as exams are over, though fate feels colder.

Lost, pondering where my path may lead,
Famished, devouring sustenance for a final feed.

Anxious, yearning for another chance to find,
Dizzy, amidst the bustling humankind.

Serene, resting upon a solitary seat,
Vacant, my gaze drifts from sky to street.

Curious, a girl stands before my eyes,
Indifferent, my thoughts still mired in morning ties.

Captivated, the reflection in the window's frame,
Radiant, a heavenly angel or a royal dame?

Lethargic, resisting the urge to engage,
Timeless, something within me starts to age.

Innocent, do our gazes intertwine along this ride?
Silent words, our reflections in the glass confide.

Quiet, where have all the people gone?
Warmth, in her gaze, desire and doubt are drawn.

Astonished, my thoughts echo the same flight,
Bustling, the world resumes its lively sight.

Beautiful, fourteen years spent in a trance,
Ended, as the arrival bell heralds its stance.
In the gentle hum of a moonlit train, I first beheld a veiled girl with monolid eyes that spoke in hushed whispers. Our gazes, captured in the fleeting reflections of the window, wove an unspoken bond. Yet, just as the promise of our story began to unfold, the harsh clang of the station bell shattered our shared silence, and we drifted apart—strangers, yet forever tethered by a moment lost to time.
Mri Jan 24
About love I never knew
Until a girl walked into view.
Rude,me,cold as ice
Melted over her almond eyes.
Never liked sharing my seat
But for her I wanted to defeat.
I cast a shadow, chilling the bone,
With my dream girl I was not on my throne.
Always my emotions in crowd remain concealed
But to her I wanted my soul to get revealed
When nothing going on my way,
She my sunshine on a cloudy day.
Want her to be mine
For my faded photographs,
she was the filter of shine
Confessed my love under the starry sky
Moonlight heard, "yes" was her reply.
2 Months cherry blossom in town
She was my goddess, I longed for her
to wear my devotion's crown.
On August 19 storm was dreadful ,
Loving her become regretful.
Faked the love from the start
A trap, to earn a place
in her so called friend heart .
For her us was a game, I was a fool
The player played well and used me for a tool.
My ship of love sank in betrayal ,
Scar of this will always be here.
Now I am a frozen lake
Given up on beautiful things ,at end it aches.
Love , betrayal and regret are experiences which can turn you into a different person with varied personality. Love is a positive emotion, while betrayal is a negative action that damages a relationship.
Next page