#wakeupcall
It’s the littlest things that really prove
How little you know about me.
It’s the innocent incorrect way you see,
And the shallow way you soothe
It’s the fact you forget the little things,
All the facts I subtly state
It’s the mask you see as me- not fake,
And lack of sense that stings
I always thought the idiom
That paper cuts can ****
Did not apply to me one bit-
No, my blood would never spill.
But it’s the smallest sins that clear the view
My innocence obscured
I thought your density was pure,
My heart, so quick to skew
I always thought these little things
Meant nothing at all;
Those thoughts so small, unrecalled
Had no such harm to bring.
But slowly stacked forgotten facts
Grew so subtly,
‘Til one straw broke my bending back
And showed your “love” for me.
Oct 9, 2025
Oct 9, 2025 at 9:38 PM UTC
You’ve got one life.
Don’t treat it like a stage for laughs,
when it’s meant to be a stage for growth.
Don’t make your life a joke.
Jun 10, 2025
Jun 10, 2025 at 11:11 AM UTC
Driven blindly
By a harsh dawn
Bruised and Battered
Bleeding and Torn
Showing up isn't easy
Nor a breakthrough
Of hearts beating
Being True
© Debra Lea Ryan
20.04.2025
Apr 21, 2025
Apr 21, 2025 at 6:39 PM UTC
I came on silver wings,
drifting past dying stars,
hoping to find a world soft enough
to call my own.
I saw blue first,
a planet breathing,
wrapped in mist and promise.
I thought, maybe here—
maybe here I could stay.
But then—
the silence of women swallowed whole,
voices drowned in laws not their own.
Skin held as a currency,
love twisted into a crime.
The ones in power, chosen by fear,
speak with empty mouths
and call it truth.
I watched men sharpen their edges
on the backs of women,
their laughter carving scars,
their hands taking without asking.
The food—
not food at all, but ghosts of what once was,
pumped with things that do not belong.
The trees fall,
not from time,
but from greed’s impatient hands.
And I wonder,
do they not see the world turning brittle?
Do they not hear the earth gasping?
I do not understand your wars,
your hunger for more,
the way you cage each other
and call it freedom.
I only feel it—
the ache of something wrong,
an unraveling, a sickness,
a grief I do not have a name for.
I did not come to be a witness
to a planet choosing its own end.
I came looking for home,
but this—
this is not a place to stay.
So I turn away,
silver wings catching starlight,
searching for a world
that remembers how to be kind.
Feb 22, 2025
Feb 22, 2025 at 12:52 AM UTC
i hear
the birds fly
overhead,
their chirps, squeaks
and squawks
inviting me
outside
to join the
morning party.
Sep 6, 2024
Sep 6, 2024 at 5:36 PM UTC
I know you are better than that.
It angers and frustrates me how;
Childish and ill-disciplined you can be.
A motto in which you follow unknowingly,
"Think before"
"Act later."
Think about us.
Think of how people see you when you are like that.
It disappoints me and has drawn me
To the point of a deepening depression when it comes to mind.
To see your role model disobey and,
Throw everything they have taught you,
Out the window.
We learn by example but have you
Evaluated your actions, especially
The ones' you exhibit to us?
It's your time to make a change.
Your life will fall apart if this continues.
I write this as a wake-up call.
Not only because I love you but
To see you become a better person.
It is your choice.
Sep 21, 2016
Sep 21, 2016 at 9:53 AM UTC
Laying pain over pain
I cut into my spirit
again,
blood on my sleeve and
who could believe that
such hurt was conceived in
the heart?
Self harming's a charming
expression which hides the reality as the blade slices into me and my tears like the hot blood start running free,
hurting me to stop hurting me which hurts me even more and what for?
few could understand and fewer would even try,
at times like this I feel like the time is ripe to slice again to cut and bleed and cut to feed the gaping mouth of depression.
Self expression should never take the knife to cut out the things that ache.
If I break and take the blade to slice the pain,
If I make again this cut to cut out pain will it go away?
One day
I say, some say
we all say
one day.
One day I'll cut it all away
and feel the pain
no more.
Feb 15, 2016
Feb 15, 2016 at 12:35 AM UTC
You sit there at the window
Watching the rain wreck havoc on the aged trees
Wondering "when will your life begin"
Searching for that prince charming to gallop in
Snatching you out of your window
To take you back to his white castle as his bride
To you, yes you who sits and dreams
I ask did you ever try stepping out?
To feel the rain dampen your skin
And feel the piecing cold run shivers down your back?
Did you ever try to speak out
Voice your opinions perhaps
Maybe those hidden emotions
To the ignorant soul who knows not your existence?
Maybe just maybe if you stepped out
Lived a little
And stopped shunning things in fear
Maybe if you made mistakes
Had your heart broken
Tripped and fell into the mud
And had your dreams crushed to dust
Perhaps seen a loved one die
Maybe if you lived through the hardships of time
You could say you lived
You could say your life was worth something
Not to anyone else
But just you
In the end after all
It is yourself you have to live with
Nov 13, 2015
Nov 13, 2015 at 6:25 AM UTC