#selfreflective - Hello Poetry

Letters Beneath the Mirrored Sea By Bellie-boo “Far beneath this sea of my own forthcoming,” I see the little girl inside— not even three feet tall, yet defiant in her stride. Sure, she’s a little devil, but I cannot simply let her be; her fire, untamed, keeps burning me. “A Monster. The Saint. A Liar. The Fighter.” Ah yes, let’s play dress-up—a game of desire. Which mask did I choose, which flame to inspire? “Always begging for a part to play,” hoping a role might show the way, yet none fit right, no script would stay. “To live as me, To die straight.” Ah yes, how dramatic I could be— exploring worlds too vast for me. “How sweet, little one; I cannot let you be.” “Black roses erode,” you whisper low; what beauty, to watch the dark bloom go. Like marble softening into bone, you surprise me, child, with what you’ve shown— a quiet strength I never thought my own. “Send me a postcard.” I always liked a plan— knowing what to do and where to stand. I’m sorry, little one; there’s no shortcut, no turn-around, no skipping the fight— some sad things can’t be unlived or made right. “To be killing me / to be / what I / want to / be.” Little one, breathe—your fire burns bright in me; no cage of fear, just possibility. “I’m ready to take your hand too.” Your courage hums—a steady ring; sometimes I wonder which of us learned to sing. “Oh little one, your voice is the key, to unlocking the love once lost in me; every spark you give remakes what could be.” “What if I said I loved you?” I’d say I love you too— though I know belief still hides from view. “Because the you I see in the mirror, I have not always treated with care; some days, I wasn’t even there.” “Tenderly binding you to me.” If this reflection’s what I see, then I’d kiss the glass—set both of us free. “Thank You for Sending Me a Postcard.” Signed— the self who learned to stay, not guard.

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Oct 29, 2025

Oct 29, 2025 at 11:12 PM UTC

bellie-boo

Letters Beneath the Mirrored Sea

Letters Beneath the Mirrored Sea By Bellie-boo “Far beneath this sea of my own forthcoming,” I see the little girl inside— not even three feet tall, yet defiant in her stride. Sure, she’s a little devil, but I cannot simply let her be; her fire, untamed, keeps burning me. “A Monster. The Saint. A Liar. The Fighter.” Ah yes, let’s play dress-up—a game of desire. Which mask did I choose, which flame to inspire? “Always begging for a part to play,” hoping a role might show the way, yet none fit right, no script would stay. “To live as me, To die straight.” Ah yes, how dramatic I could be— exploring worlds too vast for me. “How sweet, little one; I cannot let you be.” “Black roses erode,” you whisper low; what beauty, to watch the dark bloom go. Like marble softening into bone, you surprise me, child, with what you’ve shown— a quiet strength I never thought my own. “Send me a postcard.” I always liked a plan— knowing what to do and where to stand. I’m sorry, little one; there’s no shortcut, no turn-around, no skipping the fight— some sad things can’t be unlived or made right. “To be killing me / to be / what I / want to / be.” Little one, breathe—your fire burns bright in me; no cage of fear, just possibility. “I’m ready to take your hand too.” Your courage hums—a steady ring; sometimes I wonder which of us learned to sing. “Oh little one, your voice is the key, to unlocking the love once lost in me; every spark you give remakes what could be.” “What if I said I loved you?” I’d say I love you too— though I know belief still hides from view. “Because the you I see in the mirror, I have not always treated with care; some days, I wasn’t even there.” “Tenderly binding you to me.” If this reflection’s what I see, then I’d kiss the glass—set both of us free. “Thank You for Sending Me a Postcard.” Signed— the self who learned to stay, not guard.

50

I'm worried — I may have to destroy myself, to walk down the path I've chosen, that who I am today — is not up to the journey ahead, that fear, makes every step further, that much more precarious, maybe that's every journey — casting away the weight, that keeps you stuck, I don't know who may be me — when we reach our destination, I only hope we will be someone, who can see I to I, to be someone full of compassion — for those still walking their paths, someone I needed.

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Aug 1, 2025

Aug 1, 2025 at 4:11 PM UTC

KingAC

I to I

I'm worried — I may have to destroy myself, to walk down the path I've chosen, that who I am today — is not up to the journey ahead, that fear, makes every step further, that much more precarious, maybe that's every journey — casting away the weight, that keeps you stuck, I don't know who may be me — when we reach our destination, I only hope we will be someone, who can see I to I, to be someone full of compassion — for those still walking their paths, someone I needed.

18

27 Today I turn 27, Finding myself not feeling anything, Recovery is a bittersweet ending, Sobriety but a lingering telling, It took 27 lines of ******** drugs, Not the kind you may think off, The kind we are so addicted to, 27 lines of the purest lies, 27 lines of the finest mistreatment, 27 lines of the most mindfucking self harming, 27 lines of the most relaxing coping, 27 lines of the most euphoric settling, It took 27 contracts, To realize that in this tale as old as time ending, Is never too late, To rule over a queendom, Abandoned by the heiress, A queen of a lonely poetry, Fading in the vision, Chasing fantasies, Never seeing the clock behind her, 27 years to wake up from a slumber, A self given kiss, The curse is broken, 27 years of harcore lines, The ones that only make you realize, Delusion is but a poisoned apple, The side effects but a reflection of the hidden mirror, For in the end, my world is but an illusion, The same you wake up to, An actress of everyone's delusions, Never given a chance to envision, The illustrations of a scripture, A tale written by a lonely heiress, One that welcomes, Foes that see the vision, Wolves wearing sheep linen, Their masquerade no longer hidden, 27 years of ******** lines, Rose pink sunglasses the sweetest red wine, 27 years of the finest lines, Why was it so hard, To see what was left behind, A world that is only mine, Looking, looking, and looking, For a savior wearing armor and diamond, Today I realize, The heaviness in my heart, Heaviness of armor I looked past, I had been fighting a war, To protect what is so precious and not far, The vision of a lonely child, Made to closer her eyes, So she would never realize, She was the one she was looking for, Shameless for is never too late, To open the gates of heaven inside.

0

Apr 20, 2025

Apr 20, 2025 at 9:11 PM UTC

VioletEvang

27

27 Today I turn 27, Finding myself not feeling anything, Recovery is a bittersweet ending, Sobriety but a lingering telling, It took 27 lines of ******** drugs, Not the kind you may think off, The kind we are so addicted to, 27 lines of the purest lies, 27 lines of the finest mistreatment, 27 lines of the most mindfucking self harming, 27 lines of the most relaxing coping, 27 lines of the most euphoric settling, It took 27 contracts, To realize that in this tale as old as time ending, Is never too late, To rule over a queendom, Abandoned by the heiress, A queen of a lonely poetry, Fading in the vision, Chasing fantasies, Never seeing the clock behind her, 27 years to wake up from a slumber, A self given kiss, The curse is broken, 27 years of harcore lines, The ones that only make you realize, Delusion is but a poisoned apple, The side effects but a reflection of the hidden mirror, For in the end, my world is but an illusion, The same you wake up to, An actress of everyone's delusions, Never given a chance to envision, The illustrations of a scripture, A tale written by a lonely heiress, One that welcomes, Foes that see the vision, Wolves wearing sheep linen, Their masquerade no longer hidden, 27 years of ******** lines, Rose pink sunglasses the sweetest red wine, 27 years of the finest lines, Why was it so hard, To see what was left behind, A world that is only mine, Looking, looking, and looking, For a savior wearing armor and diamond, Today I realize, The heaviness in my heart, Heaviness of armor I looked past, I had been fighting a war, To protect what is so precious and not far, The vision of a lonely child, Made to closer her eyes, So she would never realize, She was the one she was looking for, Shameless for is never too late, To open the gates of heaven inside.

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