I sense a lot;
my saturated feelings
consume me, eat me,
clench my heart,
and softly pet it

as though it purrs for me to move,
to breath, to keep existing,
when no existence is enough
for me to feel alive
and present.

Let the suffering grow your heart.

Let it grow your compassion.

Let it help you understand.

Let it help you forgive.

Let it help you to see the circumstances of the unfortunate,

and to feel their sadnesses deep within.

Let it help you to cry, wholeheartedly.

Let it give you depth.

Let it give you meaning; purpose.

Let it roll over you like a welcome wave;

A shower that cleanses you; inside, out.

Let it make you feel.

Let it make you sensitive.

Let it allow you to listen.

Let it teach;

find parts of yourself you once lost, now known;

A coming back to self.

Let it refine you.

Evolve you.

Let it give you poetry,

A heart,

Art.

Let it be,

Let it be.

not punishing myself for having emotions but forcing myself not to

so sensitive- a sticky gooey bleeding heart

like a licked melted lollipop,
my heart weighs in my chest

my source of conscience

and also guilt

I cant decide if I can go on being so open

I don't want to lose my compassion but I don't want to die keeping it

-------------------------------------------------------------­-----------------------------

can I keep one thing to myself

is it so hard to be happy with just knowing myself

I find joy in giving and sharing but not in receiving and keeping
-that is going to hurt me one day

it seems as though I cannot find any answers within myself

is that so hard to do

answer one question about myself

even the important one

who am I

the street lamp shines on the pavement in my mind

and I watch through my window

wishing I could share the view with someone else

-----------------------------------------------------------­-------------------------------

who could ever love someone who is so unsure of herself

and so sensitive

I'm so sensitive

I fear real emotional commitment

why cant I just untie the knot in my chest

when did I tie it in the first place

I plead it to loosen

bleeding fingers prying back the ribbon

but it is too tight

and it has been there so long that the fabric folds in on itself at each curve

almost as if its a ball of ice

but for it to be ice it would have to be cold

and my chest roasts under a fire of emotion that is constantly stoked

so the ice would surely melt

I don't want an empty cavern with cobwebs and stalagmites frozen, reaching up for a heart that disappeared long ago

but I cannot handler the fire in my stomach burning the lining of my chest and climbing up my throat
using the cartilage rings in my esophagus as a ladder to my head

I was born with the softest skin
Shoot daggers from your eyes
And I will bleed to death

I am cold.
But everyone says
You just need to get past my walls,
I am a warm person deep down.
They see what they want to but
I am cold as ice inside.
People will tell you
I have a sensitive side but
Hardly anyone sees.
What I truly am inside,
A heartless monster.
Still, my peers think they know
I am really a big softy.

Now read it bottom to top.

I can’t go on a diet
cause I care too much
about everything
and everyone
I feel too much
even for food’s feelings
which tell me how
I'm supposed to go
breaking

One of those days where everything is too much
you feel the weight of everyone's expression
words and emotions drag you down
suffocating your fight
every sentence slowly drains you
every light is too bright
noise piercing your every cell to the core
the sky begins to fall on you
gravity against you
your body is dragged down
the pressure is too much to bare
the world weighing down your mind
your mind weighing down the world
the ache for silence
the need to be alone
the anchor of life's energy attached to you
the demand of everything needing to be felt
the prison of forced empathy
one of those days where you feel everything