These roaming thoughts Keep crashing in my head Forcing me to remember How lonely it felt To be with you How you pushed me aside To love on another. I asked, Wondered, Begged For a future with you. But it seems that I’m not worthy Of such hope. My loneliness will consume My fleeting happiness I will always feel neglected
the forgotten child is nearing the end of their adolescence. these thoughts have swam inside them for a decade rumbling, roaring, ramming against their barricade it was not me that was forgotten, but the naïve child inside me i've spent a decade reserving my right to tell the awaited rescuer that the child and i prefer to stay at our safe haven.
i am a body of 22, but a mind of 12 naïve 12 turned pitiful, pessimistic 14 turned people-pleaser 17 turned naive 18 turned pitiful, pessimistic 20 turned please just come back, why did you never come back
i'll never stop wondering why i had to create my own safe haven i've spent a decade reserving my right to turn away my wrongdoer it's silly of me to think that you returning makes you a rescuer nature versus nurture, a baby bird kicked from the comfy nest a decade-long vacation from being a parent, abandoned until i grew the forgotten child is nearing the end of their adolescence.
A cold abrasion Numbing as quickly As the words outpouring Making raw a mind Knowing no different Than to accept And try to live with The disappointment Of oneself.
Havoc raining as a wave Twice as tall Allowing no escape But to watch As the trauma unfolds And the words Spoken out of hate Branded on my brain As a reminder Of being unworthy.
A blank canvas Unknowing To the wide staring eyes Bruised beneath The blank canvas veil That is the shell Of skin, More alien on this body The more photo albums A mind fills with memories.
Could I really be The monster Of which She speaks?
Deleting Is the only option To escape the toil Of counting fingers And reading Truths and falsehoods To conclude Innocence or guilt In my adolescence.
Silence is a grave That one finds comfort in When these walls Are so used to ringing ears From the storm That only lasts seconds But lingers In the gilded silence As the mind speaks Above the bloodflow When all one can do Is plug ears With fingertips In order to live with oneself
Retaliation lies beneath The bleeding Now only visible If friends are let close To see As the heart Tears threads That have been sewn To restrict emotion Loosening the seal On the demon cradled within
A furnace Are thrown the old photo albums But in turn are the recents As a block in the mind Has been created To forget Because nothing is worth remembering During a childhood Of only knowing The names And the fear Of what you are, And after such a block has been made Remembrance Is no longer A thread Sewn in To allow an escape.
I listen to the endless cries of cats at night Lonely and helpless, Abandoned and forgotten Living in a narrow, deserted alleyway. I’ve left cans of food for them, But that’s not what they want They want love To feel protected and sheltered By the sheer warmth of compassion Some may want to be reunited with their mothers Or from their owners’. No matter how many times these poor animals were left out in the cold Or met with the scorching rays of the sun We’ve neglected them to the point where Anything better than what they have right now will suffice. The next time I hear their cries I can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of guilt Part of me wants to take every one of them out of their miserable lives But some of these cats had lives Some of us overlooked that Walked right pass a cat that belonged to someone who didn’t want them anymore Threw them out like the piles of trash In the alleyway.
The History: I wanted a good, but cheap Moscato. You bought a couple that left a dryness in my throat before we found the one. Another February rolled around, and for my birthday you bought it. We used to get a bottle, go down to the beach and sit on the lifeguard tower with some of my homemade alfredo. That bottle left with me, if I remember correctly.
To sing to a void of silence, eating away at the sound I make, Hoping something reacts and makes a sound. I realized the pattern before me. A sea of silence A space of eyes Alone, in this place Singing my heart aloud...
But then i begin to wonder;
why? When it's only me in the end. Am I crazy to continue to share my emotions with the eyes Although they don't provide me the company I desire
Am I singing to feel sane Or is it because I'm starting to feel tired Cold, descending into the abyss of depravity
I'm not really okay I just want to be held But once again
It's only me...singing alone In a deep silence of eyes
Forever trapped in a pattern that won't decay
...Sometimes I think about deleting my accounts and writing my poems in my notes. I don't even know if they're decent on the site. I rarely get feedback...just a number of eyes that have "observed" my emotions.