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Interconnectedness
arrives
as a terrible greatness
yet departs the same way.

Some things are
never meant to last,
so i'm holding on
to the memos we had.
April 25, 2025. At home.
I'm alone
I'm just another poet
Another artist
Melancholy is my fuel
I need to be at the top
Look at the greatest writter
He died of suicide

Look arround the earth
Look at the past
The greatest ever musician
Killed himself

The best poet on this earth
Never live to see his words
Being displayed at art gallerys
And being read by many

The greatest actor who we saw
Also writting he mastered
He died of suicide
Right after telling the world
They're not alone
The peak just vague in clouds, yet
fails to tame hikers' wild hearts.
On the fragment of petrifaction, I
saw my own beauty reflected.
Amidst the dusty wind, I
heard my inner voice echoed.

Footprints on shortcuts transform treads to tracks
“Hi!”
Golden gale tore the still moss
Yet shallowed the brown might
“Thank you!”
Stamps lull taken steps into gone
“Cheers!”
Sheer lines
“You’re close!”
Grey clouds settled on the peak
For no up-looking eyes to glance
“Hi!”
As if the small has always been the great.

On mountains edge sun shines grace,
without looking back a wild rabbit ran away.
Greetings connecting the towering mights
adorned the mountain with resounding sights
that transcended the “Hi!”s

Not upon
18:43 February 5, 2024. On Roys Peak Track, New Zealand.
Azelea V Jul 12
I am in the pursuit of my own greatness
something that was written for me way before i was born
a choice i had to make
a choice i would eventually make
it hides in the little corners of everyday shenanigans
it lies folded in the crevices of the sighs and wonders

a magnetic pull that my eyes cannot see
a blaring scream that my ears cannot hear
The standards I have set for myself
are almost impossible to return from.
I want a life burning with excitement,
a life where my femininity is celebrated.
In this diaspora I live,
I just need to be great.

No one depends on me.
I cling to myself
like a sloth clinging to its tree.
I have a future that hangs
at the corner of my head,
ready to burst into reality.

Without greatness in mind, I'm merely a breeze,
another woman ready to be sold off for marriage.
But I am nothing without the future I see.
I can’t live
live without the greatness I impeccably need.

I'm all I have.
and I need.
wrote this for a prompt assigment
Solace Aug 5
"very good" they wrote
i nearly ripped the paper to bits and
threw it in their god-forsaken faces
"very good" makes my blood turn, slice, and seep from my wrists
i'd rather die than see those words again--or lack of words

even "excellent" is not enough anymore
(enough, like anything has ever been enough)
i crave Perfection,
i sink down to my grimy knees and crawl agonizingly
towards Perfection
forever destined to fall into its pits and
extinguish in the blink
of
an
eyelash

greatness.
i want--
greatness or nothing.

i want my name to be known for millennials to come
my footsteps to be recognized by the youngest fawn
the crowds to step aside and bask in my flawlessness
the shape of my lips, hips, fingertips memorized to the very vein

poets to sing verse after verse until blood comes up instead of music
soldiers to **** and torture for the simple hope of meeting my eyes
kings to deem me the Ideal, the Best in front of all pitiful peasants
lovers to cut into their own chests to confide me their hearts

for,
if my light were to be a dying ember left on the side of the road,
and a child picked me up to smooth their fingers on my sharp edges
giggles and smiles at the flickers of sparks lighting inside me
tuck it in their pockets, and be loved every day for as long as i live

no--
that would not be nearly quite enough.
always graphite, never diamond.
always the giver, never the taker.
always the silent, never the heard.
always the heart, never the brain.
Who are you boy?
Lost in your own mind,
Get on out of there!
You're missing the best parts of life,
Stop thinking for a few,
Just drop everything and do.
Nothing on this earth can stop you,
After all, you've got creativity, love, and roots,
What more do you need in order to be great?
The next great American poet.
Inspired by the identity projects from my English classes.
SL May 1
The fire rises ominously,
transcending boundaries-
engulfing pieces of shredded
papers written lovingly.
There are things important to me,
That many people today will find silly,

This is one of those,
To be a writer,
To write great poetry,

To have that poetry read in classrooms,
To have it read in lecture halls,
That it will be read in fire lit living rooms,
That it will reach the ears of the youth,

----- ----- ----- -----

I find this important.
That I will leave something great behind me.
If they doubt I'm so young,
But simply agree with the rest,
Does that mean I've finally reached a point,
Where I am so good,
There's only up?
Or will I come crashing down,
Is youth my key to fame,
Will they still read me when I grow old,
And this number fades away?
When my hair thins and grays,
Will my name?
Or will I pave my way to legacy?
My ink has a clock,
I'm afraid of it ticking down.
It's always been a question since day one.
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