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Karolyn Jan 28
Isolation
Inundated with information and ideas
Impersonal in spite of abundance
A window, short on context or connection
Yearning for people and personality
Connection, a shot away
Why is it that when you like something, it outgrows you before you outgrow it?
Why is it that when you love something, the love grows less fond each day?
Why is it that on a sunny day my blues fade away?
Why is it that I can remember you today but not tomorrow?
Why is it that rainy days are full of sorrow?

Why is that I love you?
Why is it that you make me feel?
Why is it that none of this is real?
Why is it that I wish you well?
After all Im not doing swell.

Why is that we question ourselves?
Why is it that I worry about you?
Why is that I want you to worry over me too?
Why is it that I always ask why?
Why is it that I wish you would try?

I think I know the answer to why is it,
I think I just wanted to try and fix it.
I think I wish it was a quiet summer day,
I think I want winter to fade away.
I think I want to forget you.

All I ever wanted was you,
I need to think of something new.
Please forgive me,
For I feel empty.
Without a doubt,
I’m inside out.

I found myself today,
I thought she faded away.
Without a doubt,
I’m inside out.
Why is it that I found myself today?
Natalia Dec 2020
What I thought would be easy
Turned out to be a trial.
I lay curled up feeling queasy.

Frustration, anger. A strong stance.
Is it denial in their faces?
Am I to give another chance?

But as I gaze into your eyes
Those soft, warm orbs bring light,
A fresh breath. I realise.

I shall conform no more
That young girl is gone,
This will not be like before.

Dead is the binary
The girl in the mirror, gone.
Now I see myself. Finally.

Societal chains bear me down
Some days I give in.
Allow myself to drown

In your norms
Your dead ways.
This strange form

Will never fit in,
I quickly realise
No matter the colour of skin.

Yet I gaze in the mirror,
I see myself, finally.
The world looks clearer.
Pt 2 of  Your Binary
Words versus actions
Which one do I believe?
Spoken words full of passion
To paint an image of your feelings so that i can see,
Because it’s important for me to see that your love is deep.

Constant words of reassurance that you’ll always be there
These words hold power, but i'm not scared
These words painted a picture
Of a home in your heart
It feels solid
This can never fall apart

Words have power
What was said was from the heart
I’m at the top of a tower, empowered!
Your words of love are like art.

Uplifting, fulfiiling, comforting too.
Your words have power,
They have to be true!

But now I see that the power in words is just a lie
They were only for a moment to make me feel good inside
Powerful words require powerful action
Instead I was left with dissatisfaction

Now you sing a different tune
No more I love you, instead you’re a fool
These words have power,
But this time the actions match
Powerful words of love is snatched,
Now words of hate is hatched

Words versus actions
Which one do I believe
I choose to believe the words
That are backed by action
Natalia Nov 2020
Was this a lesson?
Meant to teach and hurt.
Well honey I'm confessin'
As I bleed out in the dirt.

Cigarette ashes and daydreams
Is where I've spent my time.
Between growth and extremes
It hits 2am, I hear the chime.

'Awake from this haze,
It's different now
You're having better days.
It's different now.'

Yet I lay on a dirt road
High on petrol fumes
On some kind of turbo mode
As the storm looms.

Blasted by soundwaves.
Sand and grit in my eyes
I glance at shallow graves
Had anyone heard their cries?

What's their story?
Is it like mine?
As complex and stormy?

I speed on past.
An unnatural high
That I seem to outlast.
A relieving sigh,

The cigarette's finished,
The high is still here,
I am no less diminished
In case that wasn't clear.
Natalia Oct 2020
You tread a fine line
Afraid to look down.
Instead, pretend to be fine.

Avoid the doubts and fears.
No matter the cost,
The floods of tears.

They come biting back.
The insecurity,
A welcoming snack.

Latched on for dear life.
You find solace
At the edge of a knife.

Comforted and bewildered.
Malignant, yet benign.
You are bruised and blistered.

Here is where growth lies.
Katie Jul 2020
salt in the wounds.
slab laid out on stainless steel

deathbed-

it is a bed after all,
a bed is for sleep and comfort dreams

but more often than not
i thrash in to it

trying to break the ribs of my
nightmares.
Roze Jul 2020
Growing, Feeling, Dreaming.
These are activities I used to do.
Growing up, Feeling emotions, Dreaming of the future.
Before I discovered I was gay.

My experience has growth, growing towards the sun,
Growing towards a box, that I could fit in.
Feeling feelings and shutting them away.
I can’t be gay.

I used to dream of great things,
Changing the world and helping people out,
But I am riddled with self-hatred,
And can’t escape, for I am a product of pressured hate.

I feel like a sunflower, Growing in the summer.
I am admired from up close but not given another look when moved on.
Sometimes I feel as though I have come to my fall,
To rid my seeds and go to sleep.

Withstand the pressure or crumble to a system,
A system of unvalued lives,
Open your eyes and see the truth,
Your gay friends are on the news.
Not as heroes or as villains but,
As stereotypes and hidden additions.

I don’t see myself, I do not see in third person,
I breathe and feel and exist as I am,
Not as a side character and not as an omission,
I am myself, and that is the mission.
This here was the first poem I ever wrote. I really feel as though writing has been extremely cathartic for me and I really hope that opening up my story for others through writing may help in the self discovery and reflectionism that we all could afford to do.
Natalia Jun 2020
There is beauty to be found,
In the company we keep,
High in the clouds, deep in the ground.
But it doesn't come cheap.

We can be cheated;
It's found within banknotes,
or that text you deleted.
Leaving a tightness in your throat.

Perhaps it was in that bottle,
Maybe under the bedsheets.
'You had it all.'
Yet it feels like defeat.

Look again, look harder.
You'll find it once more.
You shall speak with ardour.
Beauty is not a chore.

It's within conversations,
In the ink of the book
That built your foundation,
Even in that meal you cooked.

It's never far.
Just around that corner.
In the glint of the stars.
You begin to feel a bit warmer.
Megha Thakur Jun 2020
The most beautiful thing about life is,
That life itself is a lie.
That vanishes,
When death arrives.
But still gives you,
Reasons to smile.
-Megha Thakur
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