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Tatiana Nov 2017
I keep hoping to strike it rich
with a pickaxe to a poetry vein
but all I end up doing
is swinging that pickaxe into my brain.
I have a migraine, but I want to keep writing
Tatiana Nov 2017
These strange autumnal rains
make old wounds feel new with pain.
Yet the cold rain that haunts this weather,
falls gently to the ground like soft feathers.
© Tatiana
Tatiana Oct 2017
I used to think 24 hours was a lot
but then I became sad.
It used to be an hour of sadness
that would blend into a few more.
But I could always get through it,
turn it around,
and enjoy life.

A few years go by
and the sadness took up more time.
A few hours
turned into school hours.
But when I got home
I could turn it around,
and enjoy life.

A year goes by
and the sadness took up more time
School hours
turned into day hours.
When the sun shone
my smile froze
into a sculpture of the real thing.
But when the sun went down
I could turn it around
and enjoy life.

Days go by
and the sadness took up more time.
Day hours
turned into night hours.
I could hardly sleep
as my brain, my chest, it won't let me.
But in that one hour of dawn,
I could turn things around
and enjoy life.

Hours go by
and the sadness takes up more time
24 hours
turn into 48, 72, 96 hours
There is no reprieve.
There is no new day.
Time means nothing to sadness.
It's consuming
and I can't turn it around
to enjoy life
because there is no more time.
© Tatiana
I'm having a moment where I feel okay enough to write.
Tatiana Oct 2017
I've painted roses on ripped canvas
but the thorns of the rose
just ripped it more.

I've painted roses on ripped canvas
claiming it was art
when it just covered abuse

I've painted roses on ripped canvas
and then just tore it apart
I cant fix this, just start over

I've painted roses on new canvas
and I felt empty.
A change of canvas hasn't changed me.
© Tatiana

There's a metaphor in here somewhere about love, past abuse, and trying to move on when you're in a better situation.
Tatiana Oct 2017
Perched upon an unstable stone,
that made its home in shallow water
is a kind of woman who does exist.
The early morning brings mist
that settles around this daughter
who always ends up alone.

The brook murmurs softly to her
she places her palm on the surface
ripples form as the tension breaks.
And then the water takes
her hand down with purpose
to see how much she can endure.

Though this brook runs shallow
and its waters are calm and gentle
there is still a problem that remains.
Around her neck are heavy chains
and to stay upright is a struggle,
her hand slid as if drenched in tallow.

Her screams are her own to keep
as she disrupts the shallow water
rock shifting, body falling.
The chains' weight is appalling
crushing the will of this daughter
and in the shallows she drowned deep.
© Tatiana
Tatiana Oct 2017
I don't know exactly when
the water became my friend,
but I feel so much safer
surrounded by it.
I don't know exactly when
the water became my friend,
so I let go of my mind's stability
to flow with my emotions.
© Tatiana
Wrote this awhile ago. Don't know if it still applies.
Tatiana Oct 2017
There are a series of drafts
that blow fiercely through the gaps
of the home of creativity.
Cooling the efforts
of the imaginative fire,
so that it no longer grows or glows.
The home's strength is tested
by its own scarecrow,
who should be out with the crops
to discourage other birds,
that can stop new growth.
But the straw-man persists
with his unequal arguments.
Tampering with emotions
inciting the fire to risky proportions.
And so the home of creativity
burns itself down.
Because it's walls are too weak
that some straw-stuffed clown
can overstep it's boundaries
and raze it to the ground.
© Tatiana
I firmly believe that creativity can be a great strength, but it can also be a great weakness. I think self-doubt or insecurities that create a distorted perception of how one sees their own work, that they refute the validity of what they've done based on work of others that aren't even doing the same thing as them, are part of it. Also, the idea of burn-out in response to strong emotons or inspiration add to that fragility.
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