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Willow Dec 2024
I started building my house when I was five

Copying the words some pastor told me to say

I already had the foundation laid for me

But that was when it turned to concrete

Or so I thought



Slowly but surely the walls rose,

But they were built of twisted metal

Firm at first

But slowly it crumbles.



The roof is built, supposed to feel safe

But at this point it smothers me

In a house that is not my own

It is full of lies and deceit

It does not feel safe.



Then somewhere along the time,  

The hammers building turn to sledgehammers

Ripping down my walls

Revealing the carnage through the haze

I walk out, and walk away.



The freedom feels strange.

New words on my lips,

Ones I shudder to think of now.

I knew it wouldn’t last

But I wasn’t ready to return



But then music.

A single album, two friends.

Help lead me back down the path to the wreckage of my house

I know it is not all bad.

An intact siding here, a piece of tile there.

I collect the pieces I can still use

And I move to another spot.

I start to rebuild.



I still have questions about my faith, I’ll admit.

Sometimes I forget I’m not the only one I can depend on anymore.

But that’s normal.

I’m learning.

And I have people with me,

Visiting me and helping me rebuild.

I won’t lie and say it wasn’t hard.

But I’m proud of how far I’ve come.

In my journey of faith.
Willow Dec 2024
Memories are like water.
They slip through your fingers,
Slippery and nimble.
They are like a beam of moonlight,
Breaking through the darkness of my thoughts,
Memories of better times.
They are the stars through the black,
That may be hidden but never go away.
They can shine bright as the sun,
Keeping my mind bright and warm and safe.
But they can also spread darkness,
A plague spreading through my mind.
Overcast skies and guilty thoughts.
But I am learning to fight it.
Memories against memories.
Making new, better ones each day.
I will win.
Mason Dec 2024
We started with a blank, cracked wall
Hands shaking, we began to thaw
With every stroke, a world took form,
A story began, vibrant and warm.

I filled in the cracks, with thin veins of gold
Figured it'd last, and covered ugly with bold.
Excited to start, I sank into thought,
But you quietly noticed I had missed some spots.

The first layer was bright, unrestrained,
Colors of joy we couldn’t contain
We painted sunsets, golden and vast
Believing that forever would last.

You taught me to blend the shades of the sky,
I showed you the beauty in the colors of night.
Together, we built a world so grand,
Each stroke a testament to what we’d planned.

But soon, the brushes began to fray
People stared, and called us by names
We argued over colors, shapes, and space,
Yet somehow kept painting, pace by pace.

The mural grew heavy with pain and mistakes
We painted thunderstorms, chaos, and rain.
Still, tears watered flowers into bloom,
A stubborn hope shining through the gloom.

The onlookers left, but the rain eroded
Behind the clouds, faded veins of gold corroded
The thunder faded, and I blindly rejoiced
Unknowingly, I had cemented your choice

One day I looked up, to find in dismay
Your brushes abandoned, your colors turned gray.
I stood by the wall, lost and unsure,
Facing a masterpiece that felt like a blur.

With trembling hands, I picked up the brush,
In the deafening silence, my own sobs turned to hush.
I painted alone, though your colors remained,
Ghostly imprints of joy and pain.

A lighthouse painted, its beacon dim,
Two figures either side, watching it spin.
Fields of poppies, you had once made vibrant and lush,
Accidentally smeared under my hesitant brush.

My paint dryed up, eyes beckoned by sleep
A lifetime sprawled in colors and feats.
I stand before it, heart in my throat,
People walk by, unaware of what's wrote.

There’s the golden sun, where we began,
And the rain-soaked earth where our troubles ran.
The images we painted together sing,
While my final strokes frame them clumsily.

And yet, I marvel at what we’ve made,
The laughter, the love, the dreams that stayed.
It’s cracked, raw, and painfully true,
A testament to both me and you.

I step back now, my brushes laid down,
The mural is finished—its truths resound.
Alone, I face this mural we’ve drawn,
And wonder what it means to move on.
First ever poem, really ever. Would love to know if I got the subtleties across. Thanks for reading.
Flea Dec 2024
There once was a fish named Deb.
Who lived in a nice simple fish bowl of water.
She enjoyed her decorations and swim happily but didn't know
if she was hurting the humans around her with water. As she grew and grew the more panicked people got
and soon they had to switch Fish bowls to
the aquariums to the point where they could no longer afford them
soon the fish died because it grew In unsanitary conditions.
Poor deb.
Willow Dec 2024
For years they grew,
Unharmed, pure.
A forest of pristine, perfect trees.
Until I turned on them,
Scrutinizing and fearful.
I cut them down,
Chopped off branches
And ripped them from the dirt
Because they weren't good enough for me.
I rejected the sun
Because I couldn't see the light.
I denied the saplings room to grow,
Afraid of being okay again.
And let the parasites of doubt and fear and worthlessness to grow bigger,
To take hold instead.
I severed the ties of root systems,
Leaving myself on my own,
Solitary.
I refused them rain and fresh soil,
And carved lines in their bark instead.
But even as my forest withered,
And I longed to destroy everything left,
As the sky grew darker and the air colder,
I realized that even through the darkest nights
Stars will shine.
So I made constellations in my head.
I let the roots grow back
And made new connections.
I let the bark heal and replenish the soil.
I help new saplings grow, and nurture the ones that hid,
Safe but invisible as disease raged on.
I work on killing my demons, the parasites that still try to haunt me.
But I am stronger now.
So I let the sun rise
Over the healing landscape of my mind
Willow Dec 2024
Time is a River

Time is a river,
It ages, rages
Racing and chasing
Changing, remaining
When everything else disappears.

Time is a river,
It flows, it knows
Exactly where the hidden hide
It finds and guides
Lost souls it
Found me.

Time is a river
It heals it reveals
The hurt the worst
Of the demons and heeds
No one, no plan
Every span of life
It sees it feels
It waits for no one, no plan.

Time is a river
It runs or it races
Do we fight it or
Does it fight us?
For control or for love
Through the sand through the mud
Through the minds
Of the weak of the strong
It critiques, never wrong.

Time is a river
Forever and never
Does it stop?
It may slow down or run faster
Though every disaster
Celebrations, devastations
Heartache and joy
But it always runs.
Time is a river.
A B Dec 2024
Thousands lie in rows, for years,
Brewing with impressionistic tastes,
Making their debuts all the time,

Or are they clinking and rolling out, until
A poster is discoloured down the range, or
Someone's back painted red.

But in honesty, I don't get what you mean here.

Because while
It's true I'm ageing a little slow for my liking,
I'm not sobering up, yet I wasn't drunk to start,
Yes, I'm being a little too selfish,
And I guess I have played paintball before,

You see
I don't seem to need to hit the metaphor,
Or play on words, or wonder,
Any more.

Will I be able to wander as I get older? Either I'll mull myself to senility, or maybe I'll get a hole in my foot.
Millie Dec 2024
one by one we're put together. cemented firm as we watch the world.
i don't want to watch, i want to live but i can't with the cage i'm trapped in.
free me
Vaishnavi Pathak Dec 2024
Life, a tapestry, so vibrant,

Strands of joy woven with sorrows, abundant.

Some are dark like shadows,

And some, soft and bright like meadows.

The needles of fear,

And the yarn of tears.

Together, weaving a path,

Reflecting the aftermath.

Look! She still stands,

Emerging out of the tangled strands.

With the needles of sorrow and distress,

She will weave a new velvet dress.

Her neck, adorned with pearls,

Her lotus eyes, closed yet full of moonlit twirls.

A smile so bright,

Guiding her like a light.

Now, she reclaims the tapestry,

Decorating her with glory.

The fragile borders have been strengthened,

And her spirit awakened.
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