Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
M 3d
My beauty  
I think I’ll always be at least a little repulsed by seeing my own reflection.  
It betrays me,  
Stares at me with my father’s eyes and my mother’s smile.  
Haunts me, embarrasses me, manipulates me,  
Forces me to face all those faces that came before mine,  
All the faces reminding me that I can’t change where I came from.  

My eyes are supposed to be beautiful,  
Big and brown and caring,  
Loving, intoxicating, inexorable.  
Though,  
I’ve never found any beauty in my father’s eyes,  
I find his relentless selfishness,  
His sadness,  
His stubbornness,  
His refusal to help himself escape the pain I know he’s always embedded deep into his ivory skin,  
It reflects in mine.  
I stare at a mirror,  
He’s the one who stares back,  
Reminding me that brown is not just a color that has the potential to be beautiful,  
But also the color of the selfish isolation I am doomed to endure.  

I don’t see beauty in my mother’s smile,  
I hear all the hateful words that passed her lips,  
Every biphobic or humiliating comment to keep me down, each reason why I will never be like the other children she knows.  
All the words screamed at me until I finally began to believe them,  
Encouraging me to make myself smaller,  
Make myself less me.  
Make myself hate every part of myself.  
I picture her in front of me,  
Her grip so tight on my wrists that I can feel the bruises forming, her nails digging in.  
Her face distorted by my held-back tears as she hisses at me,  
“Nasty.”  
“I wish I never had you.”  
“Unlovable.”  
“Unfixable.”  
I imagine her soft smile,  
The same smile she wore every time she
wore every time she swore she was proud of me,  
Twisted into the spitting image of hate and disappointment she won’t let me forget.  

I wish people wouldn’t search so hard for my beauty.  
I wish they wouldn’t take my face in,  
My features all stolen from  
Generations before,  
As a representation of my being.  
The big, brown eyes,  
The charming, uneven smile,  
Thick hair and tiny little freckles you can only see up close,  
Femininity, romance, perfectly imperfect to keep you interested,  
Just unique enough to make you think you’d never find a replacement.  
It’s all so pretty, so perfect, so pointless.  
It may captivate you,  
But it doesn’t tell the story of what lies beneath,  
All you’d have to endure to keep it in your life.  

It’s not easy to see beyond my face,  
Or my attitude,  
Or my fast comments,  
All designed to intrigue.  
It’s not easy to stare into my eyes and watch them fill with tears,  
Watch the way my face falls,  
Farther and farther from your perception of my beauty.  
It’s not easy to hold hands when they fidget,  
So violently you’d think there was lightning shooting around my entire body.  
So easy to admire,  
But not easy to love.  

I ache for the love of which I have been denied for so many years.  
I want to be beautiful for all that I’ve endured,  
All that I carry with me,  
The pain I’ve felt,  
The abuse I’ve suffered,  
The stories I’ve collected,  
All the broken pieces of old versions of me that I’ve slaughtered on my own accord.  
I want you to think that I am beautiful even though I can never accept it.  
I want you to still think that I’m beautiful when my skin is ripped to shreds.  
Torn by the blade in my own hands,  
When my eyes are sad and empty,  
When my smile eludes you.  
I want you to still think that I can be beautiful.  

I am so tired of bleeding my soul for people who just want to look at me,  
So sick of letting people in who see everything beneath the surface of my face as ugly.  
I am so much more than my body,  
So much more beautiful than my face,  
But it will never matter.  
People will always praise my father’s eyes and my mother’s smile,  
The traits soldered to me that brand into my mind,  
Infect my soul with all of their hatred, anger, and disgust.  
People may always call me beautiful, but just once, I want someone to find my beauty to be more than skin deep.
one of my deepest poems
Bree Nov 14
I need to tell you something
I’ll whisper it to you
It’s about someone you know
But I can’t just tell you who

There’s someone around here
Who’s feeding your delusions
Turning you on yourself
Making false conclusions

The liar here is you
I know you wont believe me
But you don’t need to be perfect,
Self acceptance is what’s key
Wrote a poem based on the words “can you keep a secret?” as a prompt.
Boris Cho Nov 11
There is a delicate art in facing fear. In the quiet spaces of my mind, I have often grappled with those deep-seated anxieties; the ones that linger beyond the obvious, like my childhood fear of heights, spiders, or bees. But fear, I’ve come to understand, is not simply an instinctual response; it is an illusion that seeks to disrupt our natural course, distorting reality and filling it with false limitations.

As I reflect on my personal fears, like the fear of disappointing those I love, the fear of being alone, or even the inevitable reality of death, I realize that these emotions, though real, are often exaggerated by a part of me that clings to control. They take root in uncertainty, feeding on the unknown, and that’s where they derive their power. Yet, the key to overcoming these fears lies not in fighting them directly, but in acknowledging them and seeing them for what they are; illusions designed to keep me from my personal growth.

Fear of failure, of not living up to expectations, can be paralyzing. It has, at times, made me doubt my ability to be a good father or to navigate the complexities of relationships. But what I’ve learned is that fear does not define me. It may attempt to impose narratives about inadequacy or isolation, but these stories are not truths; they are interpretations. I do not have to live by them.

The first step is recognizing when fear begins to speak. In those moments, instead of letting it drive my actions, I can choose to stand firm in my understanding of self. Fear may try to whisper that I am alone, or that I might not be enough for those I hold dear, but I now realize that these whispers are merely echoes of past insecurities. They are not the voice of my reality.

To truly cast out fear, I must strip away its falsehoods, stand grounded in my values, and recognize my strength, not in spite of fear, but because I have faced it. By dismantling the illusion, I can step forward confidently, knowing that while fear may exist, it holds no dominion over my choices, my identity, or my future.

In this understanding, I reclaim a more profound sense of peace. Fear is simply a shadow. And while it may darken parts of my journey, it can never overcome the light of my inner strength unless I let it. The power lies within me to confront fear, not with force, but with clarity. And in that clarity, fear begins to dissolve.



In the darkness where fear resides,
A whisper calls, a truth confides.
Don’t flee the shadows, don’t turn away,
Embrace the fear, let it have its say.

In uncertainty’s grip, we often freeze,
Yet within that tightness lies the key to ease.
Open your heart, let the emotion of fear flow,
In vulnerability, true courage will grow.

Fear, a teacher with lessons so profound,
In the quiet depths, strength can be found.
Befriend the fear, dance with its might,
For when the moment passes;
we will see the light.

I was born into a world of fear,
Where I grew up to hide my tears.
No steady hands to guide my way,
Only scattered paths I learned to face.
In madness, I sought to comprehend
A life that shifted without end.

I grew too fast, too much to bear,
The weight of truths placed in my care.
Yet through the bruises, I made my stand,
A way to live beyond demand.

No longer tied to what was given,
I carved a path, my own, forgiven.
It wasn’t just to survive the fall,
But to rise and live beyond it all.

Kindness starts within,
where wounds are tender.
When you heal yourself,
you’ll understand others better.

Stay present in the moments
when pain calls your name.
Don’t flee, don’t fight; just stay.
In stillness, strength is quietly gained.

Let your heart remain open,
no matter how it feels.
In the practice of courage,
your spirit gently heals.

— Sincerely, Boris
Boris Cho Nov 10
Love, in all its varied forms, has shaped me. It is through love that I have discovered the complexities of friendship, the exhilaration and heartache of romance, and the beauty of self-discovery. The years have taught me that love is not confined to the romantic ideals we often hold in our youth, but rather, it permeates every facet of life; friendship, family, and, perhaps most importantly, the love we cultivate within ourselves.

Through friendships, I learned the art of companionship, the silent language of loyalty, and the sharp pain of betrayal. Friends are the scaffolding upon which the architecture of my life has been built, and though time may weather those bonds, I understand now that each connection serves its purpose; either to uplift or to teach.

Romantic love, for all its allure, often presents itself as a mirror reflecting back our deepest insecurities and desires. It is within the pursuit of love that I have faltered, my heart at times shattered by misplaced trust or unfulfilled promises. Yet, I have come to see that the true tragedy of love is not its ending, but the missed opportunities to grow alongside someone who enriches you, rather than diminishes you.

In the midst of seeking external validation, I realized that the most profound relationship is the one I have with myself. Self-love, often overlooked, is the foundation upon which all other forms of love must be built. It is in moments of solitude that I have found clarity, understanding that I must first learn to stand alone before I can truly stand with others.

Life’s most valuable lessons are delivered not in grand epiphanies, but in the quiet moments; through friendships that evolve, through relationships that end, and through the resilience we muster in solitude. What remains is the awareness that love, in its many forms, is less about perfect outcomes and more about the journey; the vulnerability, the joy, and the inevitable pain that accompanies it.

Each encounter, whether fleeting or enduring, has etched itself into the fabric of who I am. And from this, I have learned that love, above all else, is a choice; one we must make with grace, courage, and, perhaps most of all, with a deep sense of compassion for ourselves.



Before I stand with you,
I must stand with myself;
In quiet corners of solitude,
Where no hand holds mine,
And no voice echoes back my worth.

I must be whole,
Not seeking refuge in another’s eyes,
But rooted in the soil of my own soul,
Blooming from the love I give within.

Only then,
With steady hands and open heart,
Can I walk beside you,
Not as half seeking whole,
But as one who knows how to love;
By first loving me.

— Sincerely, Boris
Elle McAulay Nov 6
I'm scared, okay?
I'm scared I'll never be loved,
I'm scared I'll never be held,
I'm scared I'll never be wanted.

I don't know how to change this.
I'm not one of feelings,
I can't express them.

I'm scared my thoughts will push you away
I'm scared my bones won't hold me straight
I'm scared I'll never find a way to
be loved.

"Can I interest you in a sarcastic comment?"
is something like Chandler would say
But what if I can't even make my own
defense mechanism protect me?
What if you don't like my jokes;
the only thing that might be good in me?
But that's not even the problem, is it?
I can't even find strengths to tell'em out loud
I can't even let you decide if you'll laugh or leave
I can't even

I'm scared, okay?
I'm scared that no one will ever know me,
will never want to know me
I'm scared I'll never find the words to fool you,
to make you think I might be interesting
I'm scared no one will ever think I'm worthed
of spending their whole life with
Why would they?
I'm just a quiet dull girl

I'm scared, okay?
Because
I love myself, okay?
I do.
I'm scared I won't ever find anyone else
that will love me as much as I do
I'm scared that's all that's left for me
Keep being one thing only:
unlovable
as I've always been
If you've ever felt worthy of love, if you're a hopeless romantic, if you love love, but never having been loved makes you question it, this poem is for you. And you ARE worthy of love, happiness and anything you dream of, and will find it someday. Don't lose hope, and remember you're not alone! I hope this makes you feel seen and heard, because I know I struggle with it, and you might too.
Love,
El
Mary Huxley Oct 16
I'm scared to look in the mirror,
My reflection saddens me,
I don't feel pretty anymore,
The more I grow, the more I realize my insecurities.
I hide myself from the world,
It pains, it hurts.
What can I do?
My scars are internal,
But they show on my face.
Every day is a battle of comparison
Between myself and the pretty folks.
Maybe one day I'll sing the beauty melody...
Lokenath Roy Oct 2
Cascades of love,
I kept putting bricks around
how long shall I surround?
Whatever was left;
of it all—
I stood with ballistas' protruding
upon stinking patches of blood-mud;
the gates to my paradise
banished forever.

Who knew—
who knew there was an ocean so vast,
tides that rose so high;
as they came pouncing,
upon walls impenetrable
with eyes intoxicating—

Immobilized, I stood
know not why—
my staunchest bricks exiled
I left the door ajar
for the guest
to make home upon my cozy abode;
forever.

Tonight the waters of the ocean;
shall resolve once more
to overflow—
my glass of dreams, fragile;
once more, once more.
--from when I had been writing to the ocean
silvervi Sep 23
I don't really know if you love poetry,
I know that you yourself can use words lovingly,
I love getting lost in your passionate ways,
Let me be the mirror of love to you.

Why do I feel so old?
I am not old but gold,
It's only my thirtieth birthday.
I'm gonna need to find Emilia Clarke
To be able to come out of the dark
And to trust myself and to love myself
As I am.

To live for myself.. be my friend.
To be free, I need to believe.
At the moment I feel much pressure.
But I know if our love is real -
Any challenge it will heal.
I am sure, it is a treasure.
In love, first phase, insecurities. 06/2024
Shivvy Sep 13
In a forest
Of twists and turns and nothing honest
Everything is deceiving
The deep trees
Hide chaos unravelling
the leaves are dry as they rustle in the breezes
The footsteps are unnoticed
Nor a care is given to those wheezes
The lakes overflow
As it rains with such a might
Still no flood in fear that its not a strong sight
In plain view it's a secluded space
A good distant scenery that hides ugly grace
Plenty a tree and many a river
So much everywhere
Yet it feels hollow
There is always a hue of unknown sorrow
A dark ground that's sees seldom light
You will hear faint voices
In the vicinity when night
You can't escape this
You never will
And can't change it
But can pretend you did
Yet you'll not be freed
From this forest
One of a kind
The mind
Whose demons won't be tamed
As eventually even your soul is claimed
Kalliope Sep 8
I day dream you know,
Of better days and other ways conversations should have went. I say words with passion that will never leave my lips, spend money I'll never make, experience a life I'll never live, all from my head. I've built the same house since I was 14 looking out rainy windows, so real I can smell the fresh coat of paint on the living room walls. I've planned the same wedding since I was 16 at midnight staring up at my ceiling, so real I can feel the tears on my cheek while reciting my vows. But I'm 26 and I'm scared of failure so I don't try, the fear so real I can feel myself daydreaming my life away.
And everything goes right in my head
And I don't make mistakes
My front door's painted red
And I succeed at every risk I take
Next page