#victimhood
I am forgivable
I am forgettable
It’s up to you
To just let it go!
Or hold on tight
As long as you can
But you should know
I don’t give a ****
It’s your life
It’s your heart
I never meant to tear it apart.
Still I will not remain in the hell
Of the victimhood
You’re trying to sell.
Sep 7, 2025
Sep 7, 2025 at 10:50 AM UTC
The story that you tell yourself,
is nothing more than a spell...
Spells can be broken.
The real you awaits,
the evolution of your soul.
Like a caterpillar the ego
must go.
Nov 25, 2024
Nov 25, 2024 at 9:27 AM UTC
my whole life
I always dressed up
was obsessed with how i looked
and now today
I walked down the street
looking at myself
and I thought wow I'm pretty,
but why does it matter so much??
why does it matter if others are more or less
beautiful than I am?
I think
I was taught that my whole worth
was in how i looked
now I am starting to see
that there is so much more to me
than how I look
there is a soul
a creative mind
a flawed human being,
learning to dress in many ways
much simpler
with less of a rush and a fuss
is so healing.
I believe that spending so much time alone
while it is very hard is very important ,
to learn that so much ,
of what we are taught is so important ,
is really very much not,
and the good thing is that people really don't care.
I am working on learning
that who I am is not dependent ,
on if he likes me
or if she wants me
but in the internal worth and love
and acceptence ,
that I carry within myself
and that it is so much easier,
to blame the world for our issues
and it doesn't mean that
others aren't at fault ,
but there are always two people at play here ,
I've realized the mistakes I have made in my life,
I am learning from them,
learning how to trust myself
I think this is the greatest gift of all.
Jul 12, 2023
Jul 12, 2023 at 12:33 PM UTC
normal conditions grouped around desires to be novel
himself a victim
out of control high school kids cultivating moldy imaginings
a channeling hinged on dumb animal instincts
Nov 14, 2020
Nov 14, 2020 at 6:54 PM UTC
When I used to fall in love with rocks I
admired their smooth and jagged cuts.
The way they stuck up from their earthly ruts
or how they rolled evenly inside of caky sand.
Rocks were really my only love life plans.
Yet always still a rock.
And always from the earth, the rock will
form from violence into chalk.
When I used to fervor rocks
I would notice with great care
the way they curved and bent, allowing me to stare.
Indeed, I feel deeply in despair for my romantic love affair
with the always quiet rock
who would always fill me with hours of endless empty talk.
And after some years of this chatter and also through
witnessing the secret
violence of a smooth and steady stone
against soft and brittle human bones
I agreed that I would no longer fall in love with any type of rock.
The conclusion is now that
I no longer fall in love with any type of rock: a stone.
Jan 11, 2018
Jan 11, 2018 at 11:36 AM UTC