everything is silent
Full of rage
calm as still waters
numb to it all
it's all crystal clear
Full to the brim with emotion
Wanting to be noticed
wanting to fade from the world...
"Yet". Such a simple sound, but a powerful concept with more meaning than it seems. This poem reflects the confusion and inner conflict I frequently face.
Although I hate
I don't wish ill on other
sometimes I do though
Either way, there are times
when ill wishes for us
And though this is the case
don't look up
for if you look up
you will create a second mask
but fear not
This is not a guide
instead this is just but a hindrance
that I shall impose on thee
For I am not omniscient
I am just a fool born with their confidence
so that is why I trust that you see
and believe me when I say,
don't look up
You would need to break you neck in order to look up
now with all these excuses in your head
For you are not done yet
you are just like the others
for everything you can
from the galaxies,
to the teary moon you see
for We are waiting
for We are who have gone through mediocracy
and a cold part of hell
for We are not done yet with everything
Creeping and crawling
like grub worms under bark —
Under the surface
Eating without cause
Wake up as an immovable object —
Inside looking out
Some days I wake up and all of my faults are before me. It is my belief that God reveals them to me progressively so that I can seek to amend certain things and experience forgiveness or help to restore. Otherwise, I can’t explain why certain things from 18 years ago pop up out of nowhere.
loved to read, yet I always have been ripped from the pages-
choosing oblivious eyes without a second thought
(not because I want to, but because everyone else is)
loved to sing, yet i always have picked the wrong pitch-
picture perfect platter hits concrete with a clatter
(sound waves like thunder, which i’ve always known)
loved to swim, yet the water didn’t use to pull so hard-
phantom voices and familiar tastes right on the edge of my tongue
(these times should be long gone, you know)
loved to talk to you, but we stopped stealing those moments-
i think there’s only so much that i can carry alone
(but then i see what you do, and i can’t help but wonder)
i chose to change, they say, yet i don’t remember when
but perchance it was the world instead, between you and i
(this time has not quite sat well with my soul)
soon. buT noT yeT. I hated watching myself change
are you seventeen yet?
have the berries and the shells
your youthful heart permanent,
have you matured and learned
to end sentences
in question marks?
surely certainty and
alack, its absence,
all your waking poems,
wonder does your mother know
what you’ve purloined,
stored in you
from her withins?
so young, so much love
do you wonder about
the depth of the field
you are drilling, extracting -
is the soft supple supply,
so, close to the surface,
life so far is but a draft.
take copious notes
for the best is yet
and I await patiently
the novella of your
Few words engulfing dozens of emotions.
Smiles covered those blushes,
Bitterness holding hurt
Yet ample of hidden love
Just Like the phases of a bud
Blooming into a beautiful flower.
I discovered this sweet affection
Turning into a desperate passion
Setting souls on the spark of desire
Rekindles the thirst of a wild lover.
On those fruitful aims.
To behold u in those arms,
Naked with the vulnerability of truth.
Listen to that melodious voice.
As heart unfurled those dark hues
I know I'm not worth it sometimes.
To hold so pure and untamed soul.
Yet I wanna be blemished with ur scars.
To hold them as victorious marks
Symbolizing all the love..
that wants to build its way.
you're a screen.
but you fell face first and now you're breaking.
you've always been breaking since early before.
the shards come loose and fall with the dirt.
you're always losing shards.
why are you so cracked.
why can't you be one whole glass, one full screen, maybe with a few scratches but the cracks are too deep and you're falling apart.
stop falling apart.
i don't want you to crack all the way and become destroyed.
you're already cracked enough.
you've been dropped but fixed but dropped one too many times and you need a surgeon to help replace those shards you lost along your journey.
you're very oh so gentle and delicate.
maybe even one more drop can cause you to break completely.
you're such a flower.
so beautiful. but once you start picking at the leaves, it starts to decay. it starts to rot.
you pull off the pedals and mess with the stem, slowly suffering.
pull the flower out from the ground and you're a goner, you don't know how to replant, do you? no, you don't. so you die.
i don't want you to die.
i don't want to lose you.
beautiful and powerful but yet so delicate and light.
so easily to be taken to the route of death.
i'm no flower.
i'm just a rock.
but too rough and scarring.
i hate being a rock.
i break things.
i don't fix much.
i'm a burden.
i'll always be there.
in the corner looking at the flowers, but if i get too close i'll crush you and your beauty, your power.
i've crushed you enough as a rock.
i wish i could change
but i don't get to do anything different it seems like.
just a ******* burden on everything.
publishing old pieces i never showed the world. found these in my icloud notes and one-note.
i want to
i truly want
to show them
my purest me
but i am
they would ask
also check out my other poems! :)