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Sara M 4h
The sun watched as you stood silently,
On that hill.
Rushed by a ticking meter and an impatient daughter.
In the backseat of the cab sits your mother, clutching a slip of paper with an address scrawled on it.
Rushed by the cough of a man unbeknownst to your struggles, unaware of your toil Unaware that you have crossed seas just to stand here,
In a spot where you may not even be welcome,
And the only thing coming close to resembling approval is from the threatening sun, Glaring down at you from the sky, a magnifying glass,
Scorching warnings in a dark patch of grass around you.
It began to sear at your pale skin, acknowledging your nervous presence.
A small sparrow perches on a nearby tree, your focus gently slides towards him,
His gentle song penetrated the silence, and you were grateful for some excuse to shove aside the tears that welled up so tenderly in your eyes.
The aching sensation that ebbed and flowed through your body was temporarily put on hold.
As the sun beat down on that rushed reunion, you felt a lifetime's hurt, Yet remain grateful to that little songbird.
Andrew Crawford Dec 2016
Often the intensity of my emotions sickens me;
nerves diseased, tangled fray of countless neuroses
dragged through fragments of debris,
frustration’s fangs still teething-
bones betrayed, befittingly treasoned,
in suffering, seizing for reason.
Unrest, can’t relieve between tension’s jaws
starved ravenous and thieving;
symphony of knives all slicing,
incisions slashing, screaming.
Lost through leprous lesions, lacerated,
logic left hemorrhaging, flooding, and leaving;
broken blanket of my flesh bastions nothing but
absence for strands unweaving…
and yet I must gather ground by leaning on aggrieving.
Capitulated into the dark of evening,
for want of sleep and tomorrow towards reprieving;
surrendered into night for dreaming.
About struggling with mental illness
I’ve kindled my body back into the earth. She stretched her arms wide and embraced me tenderly. I have time to tend to my garden again and I’ve seen what it really means to bloom. Vulnerability, once cataclysmic to the garden, became the set of seeds that were worth waiting for. Welcomed by the soil, the sky and the clouds, my flowers and my fruits grow in abundance.
I see you, you are
The lights that are
Making the earth see

And I, I've failed
To recognise the torch
That's inside of me

So please,
Please help me see
I can be better
Than present me
Ever thought I could be

Show me, we can break free
From the constraints of the ropes
That we once walked

Please help me see
That we're better
And that we're free
We've grown to believe

My pillow once grabbed me
By the hand
And I felt laden
Like a beach full of sand

Please make me see
Now I'm better
Than I thought I could be
I promise I'll grow

Please, Please
Make me see
That we're better
We've realised our dreams
'cause now I know
You're the light I reach for
no one closes their eyes,
to see the one who can stop their cries

no one covers its ears,
to listen to someone who can brush off their fears

no one shuts their mouth,
to save something that is heading down south

no one untangles their hands,
to intertwine with a soul who understands

no one slams their door,
to someone who embraces them when they're down on the floor

no one freezes their hearts up,
to someone who filled love in all its gaps

no one walks away,
only until they run out of words to say,
only until too much compromising causes dismay,
only until they contemplate if it's still worth their stay.

love itself is an unconditional give and take,
if it's unrequited, it's a fragile heart at stake,
people don't choose who they love, they just do
lovers muster all their strength just to make it through

no one half-loves for it would be such a mediocrity,
so know the right time to bid a farewell and sincere apology,
love is a precious thing, but one must see their worth,
it's not selfishness, truth be told, it's always our last resort

take baby steps when you have had enough,
you may be limping and crying, alone in the tough
you might be disregarding your wounds just to run back
in the same old arms and hands that made your heart crack.

but again, take baby steps to heal, it's a process
with each step, smile, endure the pain, listen to the beat
weep and mourn all throughout for the loss and emotions suppressed
you loved enough to walk away when it was your heart to deplete

listen to the conjuring harmony of a new music in the making,
solely made from the footsteps you took, away from something that made you feel less deserving.

We never wanted to but sometimes we had to.
Sara M 20h
your mood is volatile, hard to tame.
it shakes and trembles, reminding you of a weakened hand
and a weakened will.
the satisfactory pain that comes with understanding just how alone you really are.

the few happy moments are not lasting, unsatisfactory and only fulfilling your appetite for validation briefly.

you assure yourself that you are not alone in your struggle.
that these feelings of loss and lack of understanding are temporary.
hopefully, in time, you will learn to brave your mind.

your will, it will grow strong.
you will learn to prioritize those who prioritize you.
you will learn to love yourself, just wait.
I promise, I speak from experience, it won't be long.
breaking morning with the birds,
she glides beneath the rising sun,
a vapor trail of sweat and spent breath
drifting in her wake.

muscles taut, brow poised,
a stream of hair - airborne ribbons,
and stones shudder beneath her feet.

thundering along the hillside,
she beholds the world as it fades from grey
and the truth of things is shown
with the death of night.

another mile and she'll turn around,
set course for home,

Meditate how you see fit. Do what you're doing, as you do it.
Mnamri 1d

From this pain
there's much to gain

The shape of mud
where I have lain

The monsters in my mind
I've slain

their rows of teeth will form my jagged crown.

In the end the purest flower grows
from earth where self-sacrifice is sown.
finding meaning in the pain, live to see another day
Take a page from my book.
Don't live to please those who would write you off
For choosing your own narrative.
Why let others write our stories.
Sitting idly by, as they use up the pages.

They forced the pen from your hand.
Take it back.
You know the words better than anyone.
But don't cover up their mistakes.
Tear-filled chronicles, a testament to growth.

When did you last write your own chapter.
You were excited to sign your name, you're the author.
Take up the sheets of paper.
Fill in the blanks.
Leave your mark.

When you read cover to cover,
Were you dynamic?
Did you go off script?
Underlined lessons?
Highlighted cautions?

When you've reached the resolution,
Will you be happy with your account?
Or do you have more to write.
If you have another story to share,
Take a page from my book.
I've read 1,000 tales.
"Maybe we are all one degree
and one strange encounter away from healing.
Maybe it isn’t something we don’t have to do alone,
just maybe all it takes is one person
to teach us the pain we feel right now
and everything we’ve been holding on to for this long
is what we can let go of."
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