I feel little,
Compared to the poets whos' poems trend for days.
If they came 'hot off the press,'
They'd burn the printer's office down.
Their flow is perfect, and every poem has a clear purpose in their line up.
How can I be like them?
Traveler, Peter Garrett, Ben Noah Suresh,
All big names.
They have years of experience compared to me,
Traveler's poem trended so much it's temperature matched the year.
If I asked nicely,
Could he teach me how to make my poems great?
I learn so much from every poem on here I read,
Liana's a person, a poet, a vine.
That nobody cares about the number on the scrapbook poem,
They just care they're there.
I write because I want to show people a window into my life,
But deep down there's a part of me,
That wants to be famous more than anything.
So here I am,
Feeling little,
Feeling small.

Because being tall
Also means that you have to be big all
The time for those that are small.
You bend
Down to comfort a friend
Who's being
Vulnerable. All you're seeing
Is the top of their head
While you look like a god to them.
And instead
When you look for
Comfort, reassurance,
Nothing matches your size anymore.
I miss how things were before.

You’ve grown where you were born
Never leaving the comforts you’re familiar with
Yet not knowing the wonders of the unknown
Never risking potential experiences
Choosing to keep within your ceramic walls
Has made you wary
You find yourself safe and protected
But your roots are stunted without care
And you can’t escape the mites that eat your leaves

Mosquito, mosquito
annoying chiquito,
no more flights,
no more bites,
no more bon appetito,
you pushed me too far
for you it's finito

“don’t make yourself
small for anyone,”
You say to me.
i say nothing but i
think to myself,
“i used to be larger than life,
i used to be big as the house,
the stars,
i used to reach for the sky
but then
You told me to be quiet.”
“don’t let them push you around,”
You say—
but You told me not to fight.
don’t question, don’t argue
don’t cry, til i choke
on the tears that i swallow
down, down, down.
You tell me to be strong
but where do You think
i learned how to make myself weak?
i went and i made myself weak
for You.

is that not how i’m supposed to be?

Feet leave the floor in drumbeat-timed pulses
Sandwiched by giants, I undulate there
At zenith I glimpse, the lead singer’s hair

Crowd-bound congested, controller convulses
Unobserved passenger bobs in the air
Feet leave the floor in drumbeat-timed pulses
Sandwiched by giants, I undulate there

World is all movement on giant-jump trusses
Weird carousel in need of repair
Invisible rider evading the fare
Feet leave the floor in drumbeat-timed pulses
Sandwiched by giants, I undulate there
At zenith I glimpse, the lead singer’s hair