i was fine,
until you came,
then my world fell from its frame,
though you never talked to me,
nor even spared a glance at me,
so i guessed,
you never cared that much about me,
as weeks were flying by,
and i thought of saying goodbyes,
i wanted to walk away
from your life,
but for some god forsaken reason,
you said: hi, how’s your day?
i thought it was shit but said:
now it’s kinda okay...
back to our story where,
we could have been,
something special,
something sweet,
a pair to be cute to mention
but that’s just me,
in my fantasy,
because i know,
you’re with that girl,
who’s prettier...
than me.
this was actually a song i made, it had a tune and melody but now when it’s in written form i can’t shake off the rhythm and the sound of my ukulele when i read it. however it is, im satisfied with how this piece turns out, a short story about my college love life. Kudos to you, boy.
Listen to the beat of my
                          soul's drum as I am on
                             my knees, held down by
                         the fears and anxieties
                             that run ever so rampant
                                            
         With wings clipped, my eyes
                                take in the bleak horizon.  
                                  My heart is a heavyweight.
                             My spirit is in shards, so
            what remains?

        I feel the wind's fingers lift
                                caress my skin and my
                                        chin, and with a single kiss,
                                       hope now begins to sprout
                                        from my chest to my palms

               The fire burns though I'm bruised,
                              I can stand on my two
                                 cut feet. I am scared, but
                                 if I let it conquer me, my
                                      wings will rot and crumble

            I won't be able to touch, hold
                              and reach the true 'me'
                                        The highest and greatest me
                               who sits there, looking
                           waiting by God's side

            Help me to be that phoenix,
                                        the one who falls into the
                                                       ashes of the demons that haunt me
                                                    and rises again new, proud, free,
                                                      a blazing storm of acceptance and
         wisdom

I may cry,
I will die,
but with Your breath,
I will rise
I will rise
I will rise

I am a testament to a Conqueror's belief
Really struggling with my insecurities. I remember growing up, I wanted to be a dragon but then it changed to the Phoenix. Who dies and comes back new and stronger. Today's been a...emotional wreck for me.
Having both an emotional breakdown and feeling so lost on my identity and self-hatred.
But I know as long as I'm here, I will rise about it.
I will rise above it.
I will rise above it.
I have to...
Securing the insecure
Growing up iv always had it rough . I still remember things from when I was 4years old because that’s where the most damage happened. I hid from the destruction .
I didn’t know burying so much could affect a person until I realize that I was affected.
I couldn’t see myself because I was always running
. Running from myself, until one day I ran away and somebody I knew said “ you can’t keep running from your problems “ and after it only got worse until I faced my own destruction .
“ destruction who are you “ and he spoke
Its this deep question on the inside of us that makes us wonder if what we have and who we are is enough .
That one thing you had . That made you happy but also broke you leaving it up to you too rebuild .
I’m the pills that sat next too you at 16 . You remember that same year I impregnated you and took it ? .I’m the blood that drips from your arm that makes you like jackets so much
I cover up all your hurt just so my work can repeat it’s self
I’m the words that tell you that your not good enough
I’m the thing that have you Posting all these pictures hoping people would like it enough..... hoping they would like You Enough . I have a mission too destroy you I’m That thing that blocks you from your purpose im The one who questions your ability your talent . Hello Anndreana, finally you stopped running ..... I’m insecure. Apart of your destruction.
Sometimes shit comes to us at a young age face it and don’t stop fighting
Jack P Jul 7
and all these gods are in one place
conspiring and -
all your efforts are misplaced
whining like an -
off-key note in a seraphic choir
lamenting a -
weekend's bitter aftertaste.

here's a thing you can't avoid:
a war of worlds on a bedroom floor
the house is kept unlocked at night
and a crosswind billows through the door.

...and all his questions are ignored
he chipped his teeth cause he was bored.

we wrote missives to a shallow grave
dug with musicals we rearranged
to fit the arc we fashioned here
as we waltzed atop the sinking pier.

...I am prone to switching off
So I will never turn you on.
this is a song i'm writing, have a draft
Regan Jul 6
Lately my mom has asked me a simple question:
“What pain?”
I responded with:
“Emotional and internal”
I’m not physically hurt, not that kind of pain.
I’m not ill or sick, as far as I know.
I guess my “pain” is self inflicted.
I beat and hurt myself, mentally.
I never have thought that
I am a beautiful person.
I never have been comfortable
With my weight.
I think I’m annoying.
I’ve never really believed those who have said I’m beautiful or gorgeous.
I guess the comment was too overwhelming to process.
I’m even told
“You’re too hard on yourself”
Or
“You’re a lot prettier than you think”
I can’t see it, I guess because I know myself best.
I guess those who are the most beautiful,
Are the most insecure.

© Regan
Aly Jul 6
Glitter on my tepid face
seems silly to me.
Can’t ever get my eyes in place,
it hurts to wear, itchy without itching.
Anyway
I’m going to wash
this color off
before someone sees me.
Reds and pinks will smear drearily.
All my efforts to feel pretty,
down the drain
So why bother?

what a waste
makeup makes me feel like an alien sometimes which is why I wear it like twice a year
C Solace Jul 4
As you stare back at me, are you just as disgusted?
  Take a gander at what life decided to hand this poor soul.
Do you see HER?
  Can you see her failure, her fears, that black-hole in her chest?
It’s all there, plain as day, hidden behind her smile.
  
   Worldly impressions have waged a war within heart,
She can no longer trust her eyes, nor her mind.
  They have lied so many times to her,
You are strong, you are unique, you are the essence of beauty.
  
   Damn liars
Are we looking at the same woman?
  Her body is morphed and it is torn,
it bears scars from the inside out.
  

   Misplaced skin, sagging, dragging, nothing is working.
She does not need your pity,
  She has far beyond enough for herself.
Grab the mirror and smash it
  

   You can no longer stare back and be disgusted by me
*TW* this poem is a reflection upon personal body image, and the mind morph that can be displayed when you are struggling
yellow soul Jul 2
He was so insecure, never got noticed,
He always stayed out of the picture,
But then one day he got really drunk
It was his only way to overcome
All his anxiety, and fear He went to this party
And saw the most beautiful girl he had ever seen
He knew he didn’t have a living chance with her
But he just couldn’t stop thinking about this perfect girl
One night he got a message, it was from her
The most perfect girl ever,
They started talking and he knew he was in love with her
But everything they got close she would push him away
He was broken because he really loved her
That’s when he found out his mom was sick
He was so filled with life he couldn’t take it anymore
He found some pills and swallowed them
He waited,
But then he got thinking, he didn’t want to die,
He ran to his sister’s room asking for help,
He survived,
The perfect girl almost killed him
But he was so in love he fell right back into her arms
He really struggled to rib her walls down,
But when he finally got them down
He realized she was just as messed up as he was
She kept letting him close and then pushing him away
He got even more depressed,
He started drinking to forget about her
and his mom who got even sicker
she asked him if they could be just friends
and all he wanted was for her to be happy
so, he agreed
but he couldn’t stand the thought of her with another man
in the middle of his deepest depression, his mom passes away
she wanted to be there for him,
but she heard that he had found a new girl
so, she stayed away
until she came to a party drunk and insecure
she knew she didn’t have a chance
but then it all happened again
they discovered, depression gets easier when you are together.
Is the quality decreasing?
Do you not enjoy them?
Is it not enough?
Will it ever be enough?
All these poems?
Are they enough?
I'm pouring my heart into these.
Soon enough there won't be anything left to give.
Maybe, when my words are exceedingly watered down,
and my jaw is wired shut.
Maybe then, you'll enjoy my writing.
Maybe then you'll validate me.
uwu Jul 1
I am so full of hate it scares me.
I hate the fact that she doesn't consider my feelings.
I hate the fact that he doesn't bother to call nearly as much as I need him to.
I hate the fact that she can't tell when I'm drowning, or maybe just doesn't seem to care.
I hate the fact that he never asks the questions I need him to, so I can open up to him for once.
I hate the fact that she's closed off to the point where I don't know if she's hurting or simply doesn't want to talk to me.
I hate the fact that they can move between people like toys, discarding them whenever they feel like it, but comes back to them when they feel it's convenient.
I hate the fact that he let me love him so hard and loved me back, even though we knew, we fucking knew, it had to end.
I hate the fact that she forgot about me.
I hate the fact that he never loved me the way I loved him.
I hate the fact that she abandoned me.
I hate the fact that he never knew me.
I hate the fact that she's so fucking kind.
I hate the fact that he loves me.
I hate the fact that I can't fucking hate any of you, but only feel sad and vulnerable and lonely and empty and numb because of what you've done to me.
I hate the fact that the only hate I can muster up is directed at myself.
people are so tiring, but I can't stay mad at them for more then like a day. im probably a handful myself, though. lol. i used to think I was good at expressing how I feel but apparently I'm wrong.
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