#morph
Here I am again
Retreating back into myself
Sometimes it’s the only thing that helps
To gather my thoughts
I must stop glossing across them
Because the intensity is much to bare
But that avoidance turns to despair
And I can’t pretend to be unaware forever
So I must transform back into a hermit
And permit those ideas to pass through
In order to morph to who I want to be
Mar 13
Mar 13, 2026 at 6:48 PM UTC
I was born from a storm
destructed from flesh to bone
beautifully perched in a cloak
in arbitrary, it was a dysmorphic view.
_"How have I morphed into this?"_
And all the skeletons in my closet seem like a myth hanging around in a locket, I gave you a thing where I put my little heart into it. I've gained in my drastic, obnoxious change.
Sep 19, 2024
Sep 19, 2024 at 12:01 PM UTC
I was a dead body, decaying in decades of wreckage, buried in my tarnished land. Shape shifting into a muse that acquires its sunday best to stand tall, relentlessly.
And yet life is much wiser than to all of my whims, molding my heart as a vessel of my misadventures, and veins that bears my broken dreams. I still dance on a hard wood floor, memorizing the creaks on it; memorizing the fear of falling.
My skin and bone grows in unfamiliar love, shaped into a misery, it is morphed on my own garden of heaven and abyss, relinquished its life in romanticism and death.
Mar 14, 2024
Mar 14, 2024 at 11:42 AM UTC
Will the star
show up on my way?
Take a shot in the dark
I can't promise
to the firefly.
The moon will
morph to the sea
in the dark
swing and sway.
The robin doesn't need
to sing to the tuberose
that doesn't delay
blossoms on the way!
Aug 24, 2022
Aug 24, 2022 at 4:06 PM UTC
Shine on most brilliantly my bold, brave lass
Whine no more over misgiving's past
White robe awaits after crucible's blast.
Write of your struggles to all whom this life batters
Trite experiences included, for your testimony matters.
Dec 10, 2019
Dec 10, 2019 at 3:02 PM UTC
You brighten up my day
in such a peculiar way.
My usual blue feeling
morph into a smile which the
familiar tears can't wash away.
Nov 18, 2019
Nov 18, 2019 at 5:49 AM UTC
The pain rots and sheds,
as it smoulders her bones
and burns her skin third degree.
Loss and jealousy enwrap
her scorched heart into ashes,
while lava flows off her tongue
as it promises vengeance.
She becomes a vortex of emotions
engulfing her own life,
dwelling in the
merry go round thoughts.
Until she picks up the pen
and tucks the rage and ache
within the 26 alphabets
stringing words,
to sentences to paragraphs.
Ashes and embers stain the paper
as they ebb, blot and flow,
crafting the cathartic relief
until the paper stains darker
than the shades of her mind.
The blues that would pour,
become the budding flowers
in her chest.
She remodifies
cobblestones into steppingstones,
amplifying her narrative.
She tosses the losses
into words
and crosses beyond the horizon.
A candle flame burns deep
inside her solar plexus
as she transmogrifies the shards into a mosaic;
the strings of the web she was entangled in
weaved into embroidery to embellish her soul.
The cries and lies,
made her wise
as she built from the same sorrows
she was drowning in.
She put her ache on cadence
and turned up a brain wavelength.
She finally found her salvation
from abandonment
a dive deep and wide into
the depth of introspection
pulling from the cronies and nooks
the parts built and undiscovered.
She armed herself with
empathy fueled passion
as she has burnt, learnt
and learn to yearn the better
while she steers forward
with a transfigured mindset.
For the people who came,
now leave as poems.
Aug 18, 2019
Aug 18, 2019 at 11:00 AM UTC
My room does not
evolve or become;
it morphs instantly and before your eyes.
Things move and fly they burn and cry.
I watch as a dust devil conquers invades
Two minutes later,
waltzing brooms on parade.
I stuff my room full of
glass metal wood.
Some would say hoarding
I reply misunderstood.
Most of the glass is pretty much broken,
the wood is all scorched, the metal contorted.
All of its stays because my hand has spoken.
My room is a magical place replete with spirits and souls and little doors to inner-space.
It likes to listen to music, the scent of a dog... It begs to get ****** off a good Sensi fog.
My room inspires my hands to create...
Whether with torches or pencil, hammers or lathes.
I often ponder
what will become
of my room when I die?
Perhaps as I come back
to bid farewell....
I'll leave a piece of my soul to guard it at night
Aug 8, 2018
Aug 8, 2018 at 12:55 AM UTC
Alone by a wharf
Peaceful yet forlorn
Wishing I could morph
To mask how badly I'm worn
Wish I was strong
The way I used to be
But where I am, is where I belong
The pain will pass, there'll be jubilee
But first I have to crush the glass of the once before chary and elusive me
Feb 25, 2018
Feb 25, 2018 at 7:48 PM UTC
sometimes
my eyes wander to people
and i think
does anybody really know
who do you think you are
walking this fragile earth
and preaching the lies of centuries
telling the people of a treachery
you rely the world on this feeling
when it is nothing but fleeting in a world of change
you think that this is salvation
when it will abandon you
because this is far too human
too sweet in the mornings
all coffee and sunlight and soft music
and too bitter in the moonlight
all scratches on skin and empty screams and tears
all too human
that in every day it morphs into something unfamiliar
this feeling we hold so high
this feeling we crave to drown in
and the centuries that we have wasted in search of such
we were blind to the real force that pushes us over the edge
we have denied ourselves the truth for the longest time
it is now that we need to see
that this world does not allow for the existence of love
the very thing that wars were fought over and bonds were created
and it is only a passion that drives us
to our beginnings or to our ends
Nov 16, 2017
Nov 16, 2017 at 5:06 AM UTC
so many different ones
that i chance to wear
so many that i have
decorated with care
there's my angry
for my stress
and my anxious
for my work
and my happy
for my friends
and my golden
for my family
sometimes they get stuck
and i cant get them off
and have to just keep acting
until i've forgotten
the face that lies underneath
Nov 16, 2016
Nov 16, 2016 at 8:38 PM UTC