Rest your head
Today you did your part
Wake on the morrow
Another day to start
When you get down
Tell yourself this:
Today is the struggle
Tomorrow is bliss
tears becoming romantic with
last night's eyeliner - black streaks
trickling down olive-skinned faces.
repeated self-talks. imperfect bodies.
heart's been broken for years, and yet the
bags under my eyes don't have enough
capacity to be able to carry the shattered
She sat beside herself and asked,
“Do you know where this feeling’s from?”
Her self stared back at her, unmasked,
And wondered who she had become.
Who but herself could ever know,
These things she thought that she once knew?
“I barely know you now, and so,
When was the last time you were you?”
The two of them, just her and her,
Each tried her best to understand.
Her self said, “Why are you so sure
You’re not exactly who you planned?”
“I wanted to be you instead,
Before you filled me with regret.”
Her wounded self smiled back and said,
“Perhaps you haven’t been you yet.”
Blogging at www.insightshurt.com
Buy “Insights Hurt: Bringing Healing Thoughts To Life” at store.bookbaby.com/book/insights-hurt
My feelings leak
Through this hand, through this pen
My feelings crave
For reprieve, for an end
To echoed voices
And venomous critics
This is all I've got for today. And I've been trying to twist this one around for a while now.
I want to change me
Too bad I'm a piece of sh*t
My brain tells me this
*using asterisks because apparently the "normal settings" won't allow profanity in your feed unless you change it in your settings*
If I were to come to me
With the things I’ve done
With the things I’ve been
The mistakes I hate
The moves I made
When all I really needed was to wait
you’re still great
And it’s not too late
To show them.”
Sometimes a voice in your head will tell you that you are a disappointment. Look that thing in the eye and say, "You're a disappointment!"
Then realize that you are still shouting negative things at yourself in the mirror. Second thought, don't. Please don't take advice like this from me.
Poetry is ART.