sophia 8h

his eyes looked like
obselete crystals
filled with all allure
the world can hold
but as i dug in
i saw the love
i thought i'd never find
and i realised
beauty came from within

sage 8h

The world doesn't like sad girls.

It likes sad boys that the happy girls make smile.
It likes how the happy girls make the sad boys fall in love with their every word.
It likes when the boy who is no longer sad kisses the girl who made him so.

But then the sad girls are still sad,
and no one cares.

i read a lot, knowing no one could read me.


A sepal, petals, thorns and nettles
  in metal, settles, worn and fettle!
  Summer, winter, upward high
      these monuments fly;
      derelict eyes...


A bee, or three, as laurels recede
  to trees, they flee, warn and plea!
  Morning, evening, downward days
      these echoes replay;
      voices away...


A child, wild, born and styled
  in piles, files, torn and smiles!
  Southern, northern, wayward plights
      their memories fight;
      dulling white...

Erika Mae 18h

my ears are deaf
from the cries of pain
my body is numb
from the endless rain

I tell myself
to find
a place,
warm myself

no part of me
for I know
that deep down
the world is crumbling
always breaking
and I just
have to keep
holding on
until it
stops shaking.

They say the pen is mighter than the sword.
In truth, it is equally as dangerous.
Words can be steel against others
Words can cut deeper than a physical wound
(Especially now that the roots of race and prejudice
and ignorance is laid bear for all to see, along with
it's flames)
Words are arrows
Loosed into the air and once its been fired,
you cannot take it back.
There are some who abuse words as well
Just like swords, words can start a battle
A battle of wits
When the person must have a stone heart against
what is said.
When you hold the pen, you hold a golden flower.
Though there is beauty in it, you should also be afraid
of the gold tube and black ink.
In a society like ours, where the superficial rules over
the original, one word, what you saw, what you write
Has the destiny of creating a legacy
Add further fuel to the fires of hatred

This poem is just me expressing how I see the pen. As I said before, this is my atonement in a way. The pen is nighter than the sword, they say. Honestly, the pen is just as brutal

Sometimes it feels like the world is coming down on you...

... And the only thing that you can do about it is to shrink...

... And Shrink...

... And Shrink...

... Until there is absolutely nothing left.

We are all children
Playing a game
Taught to us by parents
Who play the same
Rarely do we remember
The meaning of our name
To remember who we truly are
With love, to keep sane

Two hearts may differ
From similar worlds
But our passions define us
As our hearts unfurl
Cast to the wind;
Your souls I touch
In the past, present, and future,
I must, I trust

Long is the life
That wanders her heart
Wishing to have a constant home
to recharge
Though if my heart rest with you
As my home
I shall never truly be alone

Touch many with your love
And never limit your adventures
Be honest with yourself
and keep paying attention

This is a brand new world.

Day 17/31 of my "Six Words A Day" Challenge for the whole month of July, the whole collection can be found on my page on the first of August.

Children like to pick apart beautiful things and leave them bare,
Simply because the destruction that lies at their fingertips is far beyond compare.
They touch the lilac sky with creation in mind
But they don't know that the light withholding their innocence has slowly died.

As children, we are the petals of a flower, lovely when in bloom
But wilted and numb once the bitterness consumes.
We are left to wonder where our innocence has gone
And we roam until our carefree days are done.

O, the vines embrace our still beating hearts,
Like the thorns that have not released us to the cold world.
I crumble beneath the lilac sky
As these fallen petals swirl.

In the quiet of the night,
Where darkness steals the need for sight,
When most are asleep, I lie awake,
Waiting for the dawn to break,
Long past trying to count sheep,
My brain’s shallow, but my thoughts are deep,
My mind’s trying to put the world to rights,
But I think it might take ... several nights!

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