#harshness
Raised by a pair of dragons
Dodging their huffs and puffs of smoke and fire
And if I accidentally step on their tail
I'll burn on my own fiery pyre
And I watch the others with their parents of rabbits
While I'm here, trying not to be burnt
And while I dodge these flames once more
I think about what could've been, was or weren't.
Oct 2, 2024
Oct 2, 2024 at 7:50 PM UTC
Blunt honesty
it screams out my name
and synonyms of myself which include words like lame
I don't tune them out because people say it makes us stronger
Hecklers left and right appear though, yet my sadness only lasts longer
I've been diagnosed and yet I welcome blunt honesty with open arms
Because if I don't take it now one day I'll set off alarms
The alarms I destruct because my depression has spewed
And I don't set them off but the reason that I do
is because I meant to destroy them
so that no one could help
I'm reckless and sad but I couldn't bother someone with a yelp
My life is not theirs to care for
I'm my own person
And I'm living to be stronger
So I'll take the blunt honesty
And be sad for much longer
Apr 3, 2020
Apr 3, 2020 at 9:31 PM UTC
to my favorite infatuation,
you told me that i was holding on like it was my lifeblood.
i said you weren't wrong.
right before i left, scared of what might happen next,
you told me that my voice gave me away.
that there was a certain naivety to it.
i hadn't yet been tarnished by the harshness of the world,
and that's what you thought was most beautiful about me.
i will never forget your words.
with love,
the stranger you said was perfect
Jun 3, 2018
Jun 3, 2018 at 1:05 AM UTC
so look at me
tell me i know nothing
tell me the world has been kind
but before you do
before you judge me so harshly
show me your heart
and i’ll show mine
it’s covered in bruises and rips,
rust and grime,
hurt and shame.
dents and dings,
then look at me and say i’m beautiful
tell me i’m as golden as a ray
look me in the eye and tell me i’m not damaged
May 26, 2018
May 26, 2018 at 9:47 PM UTC
there's a storm brewing
warning's gone out
cold coming through,
iced up veins
crumbling about
winter's bone
chilled, dried and cracked
broken shelter
no one's back
empty baggage
old and decayed
cradled leaves, robbed
from the grave
will you answer
when no one's home
the bell that rings
sadness its toll
blame and circumstance
underlying routine
chivalry a dead man's
desire-less need
naked and open
spread and bare
winter's harsh winds
spare no fair
****** in the beginning
as cold begins to fall
whipping boy standing
little girl small
Dec 8, 2017
Dec 8, 2017 at 2:56 PM UTC
I’ve come to realise
That I find Lake Klinwel boring;
Ignoring the skies,
The flight of birds
And their curving dives.
This lake, drowned by eyes,
Instead choosing to reflect static towers
That are monuments to Machiavelli,
Where the financially ambitious
And their crisp paper voices spend
Their days, evenings.
*Money in the bank for tomorrow
Plan ahead, plan ahead*,
That what the lake said
When I visited.
What freedom
Such a wonder of nature
Has to manipulate and
Reinterpret the harshness
In lines that ascend until they
Scrape the sky,
That tears, simple as tissue.
And all the while,
Cigarette butts,
In an abstract delinquency,
Revise community buildings and council offices
Where surely they dream of hole punch
And green lights and confirmation and deadline for appeal
Whilst bureaucrats administer more paper cuts to the teal-blooded sky and Risk Assessments have given a score to death—
Awarding it a number five.
The lake can surely stay awake
Just long enough to show me ripples
And normality when I drop in a stone,
Just a sound that
Confirms this mind is still my own,
That the waking world is known to me,
Dreams are dreams alone,
They are the ripples reaching the sea
From my daring stone.
To be beside a lake, lyrically alone,
Brings a pain that is most obvious and physical
And so I ask once more for the
Most minute of tides for my sore, tired eyes—
Just a ripple of two to the other side
Where I see a figure,
Where I see blue eyes,
Where I see extravagant dress and
Hair so shapely they say and yet
I couldn't care less.
It could be a wig
But the wind tells me it is not,
And her nose sits among a gang of features,
Knowing surely it turns heads—
Growing heavier with each turned.
The lake spat on my shoe and continued
To reflect the tall commercial towers
Whilst this green space is vast,
Boasting bowers where I sit with a pencil
And I see the birds of paradise
Impressively dancing and dancing impressively.
Sublime in fact!
But I think they are trespassers
We should kindly send them back
Their hearts are excessively small
And no longer in paradise,
Not close to it at all.
I’m done with you, lake!
Lake Klinwell, lazy deceptive mirror!
Are you depressed?
Disenchanted?
Do I notice how you are growing ever thinner?
I heard news that our
Town is crumpling in certain corners,
It’s folding in two like a map closing.
People are dreaming with recurring themes
And the flowers bow their heads
Just in case.
Oh, you are a soft, sensitive lake,
Let me dip my feet.
Do not fear for the town we share,
Do not quake, dear lake,
And enjoy your daylit hours
In the company of the trees and flowers.
I beg you though:
One day,
When I need it most,
Reflect for me a memory:
Diana and I on the corrugated coast,
Careless on the rocks,
I failed to enjoy it at the time through fear
but she leapt, crossed a gap to get to me.
She landed with a kiss.
And if you could add a sunset,
The weather was terrible.
Jun 14, 2016
Jun 14, 2016 at 8:48 PM UTC
When harsh words
Exploit the delicate mind
They lose their meaning
Outcasts among words
To destroy a bond
Vulnerable are they
And weak to the core
Annihilates the integrity
And obliterates sanctity
Of human gratitude
Harsh words a refuge
For the weak
Mar 20, 2015
Mar 20, 2015 at 7:30 AM UTC