Battling buckets of tears have been helping me drain my eyes for years

I almost hate the sight of running faucets
Running scared into my only closet

where the only peace I get is the darkest sleep

Years of tears drained into buckets from my eyes
almost feels like I'm never dry inside, please hold me so I can have peace of mind.

You see, as the wind blows upon the seas of Ireland,
The mind of the solution sprays upon the land,
notice how the heart and soul of the rains,
and how the emotional rhythm goes hand in hand,
I often can't help but see how the sky goes cold but that
only makes you warmer inside,
and the cozy emotional phenomena
reveals the rains mind it will hide.

In Britain, the rains from the Irish seas always seems to make you warm inside with it's cold but refreshing breeze, often the rain is so light and soft the ground is still rather dry.
Xaha 19h

As a child
My body was mine.
My plump round stomach
And chubby legs
Felt like a part of me.
There was nothing to change or fix
I was simply me.
And my body was mine.

As a pre-teen
My stomach was biggest at night.
When I looked down,
It was hard to see my toes.
But after a shower, my hair curled softly around my face and fell in waves down my back
And when I looked closely in the mirror
I could see golden flecks in my greens eyes.
My long arms and legs made me fast
And strong.
Despite my protruding stomach,
There was nothing to change –
I was me,
And my body was mine.

As a teen
The hair on my legs was too dark
And made me look like a boy.
The hair in other places disgusted
And angered me.
It would never go away.
The tenderness in my breasts in the morning
Frustrated me
While my flabby arms
Bulging belly
Thick legs
And bulky hips
Stayed hidden in oversized T-shirts
And saggy jeans.
Looking in the mirror -
Was I still me?
Against my wishes
My body was mine.

As a young adult
I discovered the release of running
And the loss of appetite and slim waist that came with it.
Sometimes it would take skipping a meal or two
But when I laid down,
I could feel my rib cage.
Even if my body was out of my control
And continued to change and bleed and contract and expand
I could take it where I wanted
I could push it as far as it could go
I could taste my sweat and feel my heart and lose my breath.
Only in these moments
Was my body mine.

Nearing adulthood
My chest filled out
While my waist shrank to reveal muscle and bone.
My hips afforded a generous hourglass figure;
Heads turned when I walked.
My hair no longer frizzed and fried at the ends
And my teeth shone straight and white after years of braces.
My cheeks glowed and my eyes sparkled.
I discovered the pleasure my body could bring me
And the pleasure it could inspire in others.
My long legs and arms
Were mine
My breasts and hips and butt
Were mine
As were my greens eyes, golden hair, and full lips.

But something inside
Was alien.
Something inside was cold and lonely and afraid
That my body would not be respected
Or loved.
Only used by those who took pleasure in it.
I needed to protect it.
To ensure that my body was mine.

Running and running and running and running
You can only go so far before your mind catches up.
And you can only play being in love so many times
Before you start to wonder, if this body is yours -
Why it feels nothing.

And when you look in the mirror
And recognize little of the child
Or the pre-teen
And the teen
And the young adult –
It’s easy to let anyone use your body.

But with time you realize
That like the carpet bag you sew flags and memorabilia into as you drag it through the world,
Your body is an artefact of everywhere you’ve been.
And everyone who has touched you.
And your muscles move at your command
And your lungs inflate with air
And your heart beats in your chest and resonates throughout your body
And your eyes pick up the smallest movement
From miles away
While your ears can detect a silent breath in a dark room.
And your crooked tooth
Gives you a slight lisp that brings a new tone to your singing.
And your acne scars serve to remind of everywhere you’ve been
While the bruises under your eyes remind of everyone you’ve lost.
And this body is all you have
To carry you through.
And though the outside may change and the face in the mirror may not always seem like your own
Inside, it is me.
And my body is mine.

My mind is an ocean,
with no waves to surf,
no water to swim,
it is only a place to think of death.

My mind is a garden,
with no space to bloom,
though it has time to chase butterflies,
it is only a place to burry the truth.

My mind is the forest,
with no place to rest,
no enchanted story or a crazy tale,
it is only a place where other minds protest.

My mind is earth,
where countless people die,
it has no mornings and nights,
it is only a place to think of death.

peace of mind.

It was on the last night of fall
Glanced at my window and I saw
Oh my! Two eyes and a red, glowing jaw

But wait it’s gone, my mind plays games
I swear there are beings worth my claims
Maybe creatures from middle earth’s flames

When seen once they will return
Never will this dark meet adjourn
And no, these spirits will never learn!

Close your eyes and there they are
With you in the void, not a single star
Only their figures, deathly bizarre

I hate the sight, when I’m alone
One in each window, a sadistic clone
All let out an awful moan
A chorus of dreadful drone
It chills to the bone
If only I had known
They inside me have grown

Reading Those stories..
Reading Those Lines with Heart and Mind…
Feeling those immense emotions…
Led me to a question…. Do I have a story!

Although a thought came saying “No”

Another Question popped up… Do I Have to have one!

A feeling came saying “ Is it Mandatory?” Do you need to please anyone or anything?

Something came and talked to me: Is it an Ego? Is it the box of “I am nothing”?… Is it the Box of “I Need to be seen”?

I don’t know!

So…Let me tell you the “No Story” of me!

The Journey of No change!
The Journey of becoming aware of my dark sides!
The Journey of waiting for someone to tell me “You are doing something!!.

“Coaching has saved you”!! with a smile and sadness i received this statement, knowing it is true!

What a waste!

It is Journey of Angry soul! Angry Words, Angry Breaths that burn this history under my name!

In My silence I build, waiting for that erupt to free me from those chains of……

“It should be right”
“It Should be Catchy”
“It should  be perfect”

……And…

I still don’t know why?

It is  A Journey of falling in love with “Profiling”!!

When Identity became not welcomed and preferred anymore!

When I resent every minute of my life of knowing nothing except losing things including myself!

Where is the inspiration?
How do I channel it?
Do I wait in silence
for hours and hours
or does it only take a bit?

Why can't I write?
Even though I want to.
I got the ideas in my head,
but they never seem to come through.

Is it lack of confidence?
Maybe I'm no good?
Maybe I am, maybe I'm good,
but then I think
"What is the likelihood?"

Been a while since I posted. I don't know, why. Just haven't liked anything I've written. I don't even like this, but I had to post something. Have a great day!

Connect on twitter: @RyanWritesStuff
huda 3d

a mind so quaint
imaginative yet so dull
full of air yet so breathless

natural havoc doubled
with wails of misery
strikes of fear then moments
of prayer
thoughts of death begets thoughts
of peace
unspoken truths with
missing meanings
a reign of everlasting fear
covered in the blanket of
secrets

a mind so shrouded
imaginative yet so dull
full of air yet so breathless

the mind is mine
huda 3d

for some reason, we still are the same
repeating the same mistakes
and following footsteps that go
backwards
walking back to a past that should’ve never occurred
a past forgotten, which the present cannot remember
and the future cannot regret

for some reason, we are carrying ourselves into an ever-repeating
hell

The buzz
The high
Fragile stone shut eyes
Pupils big and wide
Stormy rainy night
Emotionless, but with knowledge of life
Blowing wind like smoke
Words heavenly outspoke
Nights growing dark
But marijuana green like the beauty of nature and the trees in the summers breeze
Won't you smoke with me?
And together see the world the way it should be.
Peacefully.

High like the birds and trees. Wavy like the oceans in a cool summery breeze.
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