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#borderline
Beyond my disordered mind, the inner child cries terrified. See past the splitting all good all bad. Please, do not see me as only that. Look past my anger that stems from, fear. Look past my violent words, my dear. Look past what outside looks so crazy. My need for reassurance, that you don't hate me. Look past my constant ups and downs, look past them please, and show me how. Look past the borderline personality. Look past it all, but not past me. See me not for what I have, Please see me instead, for who. I. Am.
0
May 14
May 14, 2026 at 1:40 PM UTC
See Me Please
Am I to be touched but never caressed? Am I to be kept close but never let in? Am I to be a burden to all and solution to none? Am I doomed? Cursed? An empty wound? I hold this pain in my hands When I try to release, it burrows deeper I fear my future I fear the loss I will face Inevitably, my love will be lost within the muck I just wish to rest my head Nestled between the wings of my nonexistent mother I crave a past that has never graced me Am I to be lost to time? Am I to be found alone? Am I to remain terrified of life itself? Am I?
0
Apr 26
Apr 26, 2026 at 10:22 PM UTC
Am I?
"so what's it like?" they asked and i stared, eyes blank trying to figure out how to word what it feels like to want to die every 30 minutes. i sit there trying to figure out how to explain the raging, encasing, drowning feelings, trying to explain how even happiness can be so painful "terminal," i finally say after a long moment of silence, "the doctors expect me to die in 8 years." the silence that follows is deafening, shock evident on my friends face, and i shrug. i do not care. i have accepted my fate.
0
Apr 24
Apr 24, 2026 at 8:54 AM UTC
terminal
I often sit in the pouring rain I seldom feel free from pain. Emotions crashing tsunami now cascade upon me then I drown. Emotional state in disarray I have felt happy, but it rarely stayed. Fleeting only just for a moment the next thing I know, again I'm broken. Oh what I would give for some reprieve. I'd give anything to not be me. Can't I just be someone else? I just cant get along with myself. If I could change though, to someone new I wonder, would that girl hate herself too? Maybe my soul is the thing thats bad maybe its not my mind going mad. But if it truly is my soul corrupt then I have no choice, but simply to give up.
0
Mar 10
Mar 10, 2026 at 3:05 AM UTC
Borderline Personality
Drifting farther from the shallows, surrounded by waters that taste of salt, convinced that every fracture was entirely my fault. I wear my shame like iron, a heavy, rusted chain, apologizing to you for bleeding in the rain. Shattered glass—something broken, too ruined to be mended, thinking my love wasn’t enough and my capacity had ended. With the shift, my pain curdles, and the salt then turns to fire. I saw you as the architect, the cold and heartless liar. How dare you leave me standing here, a ruin in your wake. How much did you expect a human heart was meant to take? I curse the day I met you, a target for my blame. I’d burn every memory till nothing left remained. Foolishly convincing myself I could forget how your skin tastes, only to end up haunted by your ghost in every stranger’s face. Yet even as the lightning strikes, the storm begins to blur, and I find the precious memories begin to reoccur. Anger slips like water through the fingers of my fist, and I’m reaching for the very thing I swore would not be missed. Plagued by all the things I feel so passionately— guilt from all the chaos, highs and lows I keep repeating, and dragging you along to share the burdens that this curse brings. I realize that many times the battles were not worth it. I’ve made mistakes and punished you at times you didn’t deserve it, expecting that my hurtful words be excused, and then rewarded. Forget the rage, the bitter words, the storms we put ourselves through, all the damage from the “I hate yous” and “I love yous.” I’d do anything to show you that my heart beats only for you. My problem is I’m cursed to run, but my compass only points toward you.
0
Feb 8
Feb 8, 2026 at 11:51 PM UTC
I'll share this curse with you.
Drifting farther from the shallows, surrounded by waters that taste of salt, convinced that every fracture was entirely my fault. I wear my shame like iron, a heavy, rusted chain, apologizing to you for bleeding in the rain. Shattered glass—something broken, too ruined to be mended, thinking my love wasn’t enough and my capacity had ended. With the shift, my pain curdles, and the salt then turns to fire. I saw you as the architect, the cold and heartless liar. How dare you leave me standing here, a ruin in your wake. How much did you expect a human heart was meant to take? I curse the day I met you, a target for my blame. I’d burn every memory till nothing left remained. Foolishly convincing myself I could forget how your skin tastes, only to end up haunted by your ghost in every stranger’s face. Yet even as the lightning strikes, the storm begins to blur, and I find the precious memories begin to reoccur. Anger slips like water through the fingers of my fist, and I’m reaching for the very thing I swore would not be missed. Plagued by all the things I feel so passionately— guilt from all the chaos, highs and lows I keep repeating, and dragging you along to share the burdens that this curse brings. I realize that many times the battles were not worth it. I’ve made mistakes and punished you at times you didn’t deserve it, expecting that my hurtful words be excused, and then rewarded. Forget the rage, the bitter words, the storms we put ourselves through, all the damage from the “I hate yous” and “I love yous.” I’d do anything to show you that my heart beats only for you. My problem is I’m cursed to run, but my compass only points toward you.
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56
a simply regrettable sin. since i was a kid, it never changed, i mean: i still own all my thoughts. however, i imagine things i used to think i would never. i swear it’s the same, yet it’s all so different and far from me.
0
Aug 23, 2025
Aug 23, 2025 at 6:27 PM UTC
011
I know that I'm not well I just hope that they can't tell Even if they did I might just tell them that I fell We'll both put on a show I'll pretend that I'm okay And you'll pretend That you really want to know
0
Dec 1, 2025
Dec 1, 2025 at 3:22 PM UTC
Ask me how i'm doing, I dare you.
How odd, I never want to die when I think I actually might only when I think I might survive
0
Dec 1, 2025
Dec 1, 2025 at 2:12 AM UTC
Let me
I will take this moment Clutch it between my teeth Bite down into its seams And even though The burn is bittersweet Nothing else Will ever matter more to me Than loving this moment, This life, As violently as I need
0
Sep 12, 2025
Sep 12, 2025 at 9:16 AM UTC
Shooting Star Burnout
Led by only moonlight. I wander till im lost. I find myself in a forest untouched by all but frost. Its quieter than death itself I'm afraid to even breathe. I can feel the eyes upon my back. I try, but fail to scream. So lost now, what do I do? I dont know my                                                        Left                               from                                  Right. The darkness seems to compress I search for a source of light. I look for any kindness within, the demons surrounding me. ****** vile, hate and rage are all that I can see. As I sit down and hug my knees. I pray " please someone find me"
0
Jun 26, 2025
Jun 26, 2025 at 6:51 PM UTC
Inside My Mind
the isle is surrounded, one if by day, and too by night, a thickening paste of fog, condensed humidity, and the mind smiles that interloper explorers would sail past by us, unawares, for the waters are merely a dirtier shade of green grey, a "path" to follow and we would be spared the noisy pollution of politics and and injections of identity that divide, the tirades of the overly righteous chest beaters, who never question their certainty, their compasses always broken pointing their "only one way" sail on, sail past. this piece of quiet tranquility, a place that has just one of everything, a sufficiency, a rejection of excess, and the only melancholy is the finality of passing of the day lillies, b u t, the multi-colored irises, the flowering of azaleas, rhododendrons, and the brevity of the cheery cherry blossoms of those; secure, safe we are, assured that their peaceful return is guaranteed by the firmament and its secrets, that, along with the overwhelming greenery of this spot, for the pleasuring enjoyment of all, even the fog's quietude, its surround sounds silences the anxious rapid heart beating, slowed by one thought only: Here, herein is, here within lies the truths of shelter S. I. 2025
0
Jun 17, 2025
Jun 17, 2025 at 10:51 AM UTC
a borderline of white
Internal journalist Pitiful moralist Brave declarations Cleverly made My words are a weapon An army attacking Myself - but my friendships Are casualties laid
0
May 31, 2025
May 31, 2025 at 10:42 AM UTC
Internal Journalist
I love I hate I yearn I ache The pain The chase Eyes and ears and taste The hands That shake Making love to my mistakes Regret Remorse Embracing my own corpse Change Sorrow Waiting for tomorrow Paranoia Trust Drenched in pixie dust Manic Placid The future's dipped in acid Hope Unrest Bricks inside my chest Friction Freedom Lies that I believe in Tears Laughter Curate my own disaster Chalk Frost Skin made up of moss Tide Concrete Death before retreat Time Space Stuffed inside a case Fraud Truth The difference between the two "I'm fine" It's true And if you actually knew What could you even do?
0
May 26, 2025
May 26, 2025 at 4:41 AM UTC
As of late
existing only in the memory, in the mirror sublime image, a dotted line wanting, crashing, writhing fatally imaginary conversations, air drawings no friend to call mine, intimacy denied crunchy brain turning to foam classes blurring, ears ringing banging the floor till wrists are bruised profanity, cruelty, pretty girls hating feeling unwanted by boys (and the girls) invisible or dissolved? dishonoured, disgruntled, disillusioned, disenchanted how right I was all alone my subconscious mind sending tremors        disconnection with my own spirit "I am" I constantly whisper to myself   in the little gaps of time I'm not dissociated    fully aware of my material,                                     not a vaporised form that I assumed from the treatment of others vapours solidify, vaporise, dissolve and vanish
0
Mar 30, 2025
Mar 30, 2025 at 2:30 PM UTC
Vapours
Borderline Personality Disorder... It's this thing that lurks in the shadows, a feeling that doesn't quite always manifest the same way. BPD...the silent killer.....or maybe that's what all diseases are. I'm not so sure. What I do know is that I never expected to make it past 18 much less to 23. What I do know is that BPD has a mortality rate of 8-10%. What I do know is that I'm scared. Scared that one day the hidden thoughts of my mind, those things we like to keep in a box, will soon find their way to the frontal lobe of my brain and send my consciousness soaring. Scared that one day I'll finally get tired. Then, I'll get tired of feeling tired and then I won't be tired at all anymore. Scared of my ability to hurt others even more than I hurt myself. What I find to be the sick irony of the whole situation is that BPD manifests solely from immense abuse. You cannot be born with it, the mannerisms are all learned. Therefore, I am now forced to bargain my existence, tiptoeing through memories that should be long forgotten. Trying to remember what my childhood was like while overcooking my breakfast. Trying to shower but my brain continues to replay that time she raised her hands to me. Trying to sleep....but my brain doesn't allow that comfort much anymore because those thoughts find their way into my dreams. When we struggle, they like to remind us that "we are not alone". Yet when I dream at night, I am the one to close my eyes. When I walk into a restaurant, I am the one that can't sit with my back to the door anymore. I want to give a special shoutout to everyone who played a role in me obtaining this diagnosis. If it weren't for your years of abuse, I wouldn't be living through the single most wonderful years of my life. Without you, I'd be free and freedom from ourselves is much easier said than done.
0
Mar 16, 2025
Mar 16, 2025 at 9:09 PM UTC
Borderline Personality Disorder
Borderline Personality Disorder... It's this thing that lurks in the shadows, a feeling that doesn't quite always manifest the same way. BPD...the silent killer.....or maybe that's what all diseases are. I'm not so sure. What I do know is that I never expected to make it past 18 much less to 23. What I do know is that BPD has a mortality rate of 8-10%. What I do know is that I'm scared. Scared that one day the hidden thoughts of my mind, those things we like to keep in a box, will soon find their way to the frontal lobe of my brain and send my consciousness soaring. Scared that one day I'll finally get tired. Then, I'll get tired of feeling tired and then I won't be tired at all anymore. Scared of my ability to hurt others even more than I hurt myself. What I find to be the sick irony of the whole situation is that BPD manifests solely from immense abuse. You cannot be born with it, the mannerisms are all learned. Therefore, I am now forced to bargain my existence, tiptoeing through memories that should be long forgotten. Trying to remember what my childhood was like while overcooking my breakfast. Trying to shower but my brain continues to replay that time she raised her hands to me. Trying to sleep....but my brain doesn't allow that comfort much anymore because those thoughts find their way into my dreams. When we struggle, they like to remind us that "we are not alone". Yet when I dream at night, I am the one to close my eyes. When I walk into a restaurant, I am the one that can't sit with my back to the door anymore. I want to give a special shoutout to everyone who played a role in me obtaining this diagnosis. If it weren't for your years of abuse, I wouldn't be living through the single most wonderful years of my life. Without you, I'd be free and freedom from ourselves is much easier said than done.
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14
can't wake up, it´s not a dream, trying to escape it, with no way out, just dissociating, disconnecting from the world, the feelings, the thoughts, from everything, entering the void, a simple retreat, only I am there, a time out
0
May 20, 2025
May 20, 2025 at 11:10 AM UTC
Borderline
Your life is an interrupted story, No more than short-term blaze of glory. It’s a metaphor that hits heavily, ‘Cause you’re your perfect mortal enemy. Tunnel vision hides altered reality, Your mind took up self-destructive morality, Each feeling you’ve got is as deep as the ocean, You lie to yourself that it cannot be poison. When stars explode, the light is healing, As it’s all dark you crush the ceiling. You feel chills going down the spine, You’re burning out, lost track of time. And there’s no scream, it’s a silent battle. It is vain to fix something that’s fatal. You’ll never know why dead divine Still haunts you and whispers: «You are borderline»
0
Apr 14, 2025
Apr 14, 2025 at 3:00 PM UTC
borderline
I have this part of me, A glaringly large part of me, That I must hide from the world. Symptoms, thoughts, feelings, and emotions that I have to cram into a little lunchbox. By the end of the day this little box weighs a hundred pounds, And I alone unpack it's contents every night. It's exhausting. And I'm tired.
0
Feb 15, 2025
Feb 15, 2025 at 3:34 PM UTC
My BPD lunchbox
the bus is coming and it’s raining outside. i’m cold, and my shaking fingers are shooting missiles toward you from fifteen miles away. texting is the worst form of communication. the bus is coming and it’s raining outside. can’t you ever answer the ******* phone when i call you? do you even love me? do you care that i’m in pain? do you care that i’m waiting here, alone, cold, while you have your car and some other ***** snuggled up under your arm? the bus is coming and it’s raining outside. what am i supposed to do, leave you when you say you don’t care about me? others have told me that i’m resilient and i don’t want to make liars out of my friends. i can take this. i can take this. i’m not afraid of pain. keep hurting me. tell me to **** myself and i’ll kiss your calloused fingers and worship you like nothing else. i am on my knees and the lentils you had me kneel on are beginning to cut through my skin. baby? do we still call each other, baby? the bus is coming and it’s raining outside. do you remember that morning when you called me a fat ******* ***** because i spilled coffee all over the kitchen floor? do you? because i do. and i would crawl through the coffee and the scattered glass like a dead man does through hell, trying to get to something better but knowing they never will. the bus is coming and it’s raining outside. i am not crazy. well, i am crazy. but i’m not crazy here. here, i need you to hear me. don’t just say you do- actually do it. pull my heart out and look how it pulsates with love. every beat was made for you and you just won’t look. you won’t listen. the bus is coming and it’s raining outside. i have put my hands through blazing fire to soothe your enormous ego and you can’t pick me up from the ******* bus stop. **** what’s a girl got to do to find a man that will lick her wounds and devour her fears? am i not worthy of love? should i just **** myself? the bus is coming and it’s raining outside. i’m a mistake. i am unlovable. i am a ruined being left alone by God to suffer in this hell we call life. everything he says about me is right. i’m difficult. i cry too much. i’m too depressed. i’m crazy. i’m crazy. i’m crazy. the bus is coming and it’s raining outside. what was i thinking? i don’t need a man. i don’t need anyone! i am more godly than anything up in the sky or beneath the earth! i am the vacuum of space and i’ll suffocate those who think i’m anything less than perfect. why won’t he pick up the ******* phone? the bus is coming and it’s raining outside. i check my phone. it’s 7:11pm. the bus isn’t coming. i don’t think it ever was.
0
Oct 27, 2024
Oct 27, 2024 at 8:33 PM UTC
if there's a god, he'll cure my BPD.
the bus is coming and it’s raining outside. i’m cold, and my shaking fingers are shooting missiles toward you from fifteen miles away. texting is the worst form of communication. the bus is coming and it’s raining outside. can’t you ever answer the ******* phone when i call you? do you even love me? do you care that i’m in pain? do you care that i’m waiting here, alone, cold, while you have your car and some other ***** snuggled up under your arm? the bus is coming and it’s raining outside. what am i supposed to do, leave you when you say you don’t care about me? others have told me that i’m resilient and i don’t want to make liars out of my friends. i can take this. i can take this. i’m not afraid of pain. keep hurting me. tell me to **** myself and i’ll kiss your calloused fingers and worship you like nothing else. i am on my knees and the lentils you had me kneel on are beginning to cut through my skin. baby? do we still call each other, baby? the bus is coming and it’s raining outside. do you remember that morning when you called me a fat ******* ***** because i spilled coffee all over the kitchen floor? do you? because i do. and i would crawl through the coffee and the scattered glass like a dead man does through hell, trying to get to something better but knowing they never will. the bus is coming and it’s raining outside. i am not crazy. well, i am crazy. but i’m not crazy here. here, i need you to hear me. don’t just say you do- actually do it. pull my heart out and look how it pulsates with love. every beat was made for you and you just won’t look. you won’t listen. the bus is coming and it’s raining outside. i have put my hands through blazing fire to soothe your enormous ego and you can’t pick me up from the ******* bus stop. **** what’s a girl got to do to find a man that will lick her wounds and devour her fears? am i not worthy of love? should i just **** myself? the bus is coming and it’s raining outside. i’m a mistake. i am unlovable. i am a ruined being left alone by God to suffer in this hell we call life. everything he says about me is right. i’m difficult. i cry too much. i’m too depressed. i’m crazy. i’m crazy. i’m crazy. the bus is coming and it’s raining outside. what was i thinking? i don’t need a man. i don’t need anyone! i am more godly than anything up in the sky or beneath the earth! i am the vacuum of space and i’ll suffocate those who think i’m anything less than perfect. why won’t he pick up the ******* phone? the bus is coming and it’s raining outside. i check my phone. it’s 7:11pm. the bus isn’t coming. i don’t think it ever was.
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93
When I stand at the ocean shore I can look far in the endless horizon It's the mirror of the emptiness inside Storms come up and Followed by sunshine That reflects my mood swings inside It changes faster than day turns to night The Ocean shore marks my emotional borderline If I step over, I could drown But if I stay, the path will be dark The waves mark my friendships Try to hold on to them, but in the end they break But some are not like waves, they are who will stay I take a photo of this view in black and white Do I like the endlessness or the ocean shore I can't like both, so I have to decide I build a few lines with Stones The Wind and time tries to destroy the lines But they will stay, like my scars
0
Aug 18, 2024
Aug 18, 2024 at 7:23 PM UTC
The Ocean shore
How do I explain That my emotions are painful That happiness is euphoria That anger is blinded rage That love borders obsession How do I explain That my emotions are my enemy That sadness is suicidal thoughts That pain is an agonizing fire that consumes me That emotions are a hurricane That merged with a tornado and tore away at my body from the inside out And eventually, reach the people around me How do I explain That my actions aren’t always under my control That is the only thing I can feel Without wanting to break Is the pain of my own doing How do I explain That everyone leaves when I break Because if you’re in my vicinity And don’t head my warnings to leave me alone I lash out with hurtful words and actions That’ll hurt and break you down Only for me to regret them soon after And take it all out on myself How do I explain That being alone when I don’t want to be Turns into an intense battle A vicious war with myself To not break and lash out at the ones I love And to instead remember to stop and breathe To process reality rationally How do I explain That I can’t do things like everyone else That the simplest task Become a life or death situation That it makes me want to scream How do I explain That my mind is broken And I hope you don’t leave Because the monsters in me are terrible And I’m still learning to control them How do I explain That I fear the love I’m shown Even though I crave it That part of me trusts the people close to me And another part can’t believe a word they tell me Tell me how do I explain The mind that is ruled by different personalities That all feel the pain of a single disorder That’s so stigmatized by the world How do I explain Borderline Personality Disorder
0
Apr 1, 2024
Apr 1, 2024 at 11:14 PM UTC
HOW DO I EXPLAIN? (A POEM ABOUT BORDERLINE PERSONALITY DISORDER)
How do I explain That my emotions are painful That happiness is euphoria That anger is blinded rage That love borders obsession How do I explain That my emotions are my enemy That sadness is suicidal thoughts That pain is an agonizing fire that consumes me That emotions are a hurricane That merged with a tornado and tore away at my body from the inside out And eventually, reach the people around me How do I explain That my actions aren’t always under my control That is the only thing I can feel Without wanting to break Is the pain of my own doing How do I explain That everyone leaves when I break Because if you’re in my vicinity And don’t head my warnings to leave me alone I lash out with hurtful words and actions That’ll hurt and break you down Only for me to regret them soon after And take it all out on myself How do I explain That being alone when I don’t want to be Turns into an intense battle A vicious war with myself To not break and lash out at the ones I love And to instead remember to stop and breathe To process reality rationally How do I explain That I can’t do things like everyone else That the simplest task Become a life or death situation That it makes me want to scream How do I explain That my mind is broken And I hope you don’t leave Because the monsters in me are terrible And I’m still learning to control them How do I explain That I fear the love I’m shown Even though I crave it That part of me trusts the people close to me And another part can’t believe a word they tell me Tell me how do I explain The mind that is ruled by different personalities That all feel the pain of a single disorder That’s so stigmatized by the world How do I explain Borderline Personality Disorder
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53
Breeze bellows, leaves echo in quivering psithurism, dithering like unbroken smoke, this approaching omen goads. Dozing crows slumbering in rows, droves of locusts' silenced drone, almost comatose in repose; nighttime overtones choir of toads' raspy croaks answered by alto of crickets' orchestral strokes. Gust encroaches; robed boughs cloven open, bring into scope and focus me juxtaposed, suspended apropos. Although motionless and petrified in stone, provoked by zephyr coaxing to and fro; swaying pendulous and no longer frozen, locus gently thrown. Death rattle moan evoked from throat, reflex can't say no to rigor rigidly posed, final sigh in silence, awoken vocal, expelled and disposed. Smote by morose emotion, gun loaded then exploded by neurosis, now bloated necrosis decomposes into gross ochre. This trophy and this ode both an opus to my inability to cope; romanced i proposed, eloped and betrothed to my own inappropriate composure. Pocket full of posies plucked when luck bestowed and tears in a cup, a toast; crying copiously, tempest runneth overflowed, eyes swollen and soaked. Dipped my toes in the coast of this ocean's amorphous folds, gripped by undertow holding control of my soul; swiftly shipwrecked in shallow shoal, an old atoll. On sandy floor, water burrows roads; digging, carving, roams through unmarrowed silica and sandstone eroding into a cove. A host for opal geode trove, enclosing a technicolor rose, from the depths a glowing mosaic shone Unopened lotus floats on foam of lapping waves, a boat; prone to no grandiose notion or motive, adrift as wind stokes. I suppose this only shows the total corrosion into which I dove, the only foes to oppose are those of burdens, so only weightless can I atone- I must let go.
0
Mar 11, 2024
Mar 11, 2024 at 11:02 AM UTC
Note to Self (Part 2)
Breeze bellows, leaves echo in quivering psithurism, dithering like unbroken smoke, this approaching omen goads. Dozing crows slumbering in rows, droves of locusts' silenced drone, almost comatose in repose; nighttime overtones choir of toads' raspy croaks answered by alto of crickets' orchestral strokes. Gust encroaches; robed boughs cloven open, bring into scope and focus me juxtaposed, suspended apropos. Although motionless and petrified in stone, provoked by zephyr coaxing to and fro; swaying pendulous and no longer frozen, locus gently thrown. Death rattle moan evoked from throat, reflex can't say no to rigor rigidly posed, final sigh in silence, awoken vocal, expelled and disposed. Smote by morose emotion, gun loaded then exploded by neurosis, now bloated necrosis decomposes into gross ochre. This trophy and this ode both an opus to my inability to cope; romanced i proposed, eloped and betrothed to my own inappropriate composure. Pocket full of posies plucked when luck bestowed and tears in a cup, a toast; crying copiously, tempest runneth overflowed, eyes swollen and soaked. Dipped my toes in the coast of this ocean's amorphous folds, gripped by undertow holding control of my soul; swiftly shipwrecked in shallow shoal, an old atoll. On sandy floor, water burrows roads; digging, carving, roams through unmarrowed silica and sandstone eroding into a cove. A host for opal geode trove, enclosing a technicolor rose, from the depths a glowing mosaic shone Unopened lotus floats on foam of lapping waves, a boat; prone to no grandiose notion or motive, adrift as wind stokes. I suppose this only shows the total corrosion into which I dove, the only foes to oppose are those of burdens, so only weightless can I atone- I must let go.
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95
Internal monologue, to self, a note: prose and poetry I wrote to what I loathe, every word I chose a potent seed of grief I sowed. Sturdy oak's branches, limbs, and stoic bones turning into woes of a weeping willow's roots overgrown and exposed. Grain of timber groans, bends and bows in billowing wind blown; a coat of leaves in ribbons, clothes, cloaking grove and hanging rope below; around my neck, coiled and closed, asphyxiating, chokes. Ungasping, thrashing throes, no breath can flow, slowly losing hope; devoted to an unspoken oath, towing this floating ghost and shadow of an ego dangling alone on threadbare throne, only home I've ever known. So what, to this world, do i still owe and why can't I just let go?
0
Feb 9, 2024
Feb 9, 2024 at 2:21 PM UTC
Note to Self (Part 1)
I was floating in honey. The viscosity of the substance Made it so that, while I still needed to work To keep my head afloat, I had a little extra support. So I didn't have to do it alone. And it was good. But my temperature began to rise. I became too hot too fast, and, Because of my actions I started to destroy the beneficial parts That the honey needed to remain useful and healthy. So the honey reacted: Threw my melting self out of its jar. I tried to jump back in But the honey firmly ******* its lid back on, And my charring fists Fruitlessly pounded on the boundary The honey had erected. Then as my body and brain burned, The other honey jars disappeared- Distancing in acts of self-preservation. I knew how I could get my temperature Back to baseline. I just needed a little help So I could work to get back to my normal self. But my actions had pushed away what I needed. So I accepted the fate I had caused, And allowed my body to fall to ash.
0
Nov 20, 2023
Nov 20, 2023 at 9:05 PM UTC
im sorry