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Tatiana Oct 2015
Dear Miss Melancholy,
I write constantly of how you affect me
you're like a guest
who overstays their welcome
in my head
and in my heart.
You seem to keep me all together
yet you constantly tear me apart.
And sometimes I think
that I will miss your constant presence,
but then I remember,
I will not miss Miss Melancholy
because she enjoys my sadness
and loves making me bleed
for reasons that are not clear to me.
© Tatiana
Tatiana Dec 2018
Two monarchs cross paths
dancing around eachother.
With words so airy,
one should know to be wary
of what will be said next.

"How does your son fair?"
"Fairs as well as yours I presume."
"Yours always had a knack for flair."
"Yours always could wow a room."

Disguised insults spoken.
Each compliment flapped away with wings
that carry the monarch to their next test.
Where they'll see which flowers they like best.
To gather in support of their queens.

"You know what would be tragic?"
"Why do you continue to speak?"
"If a son were to fall to magic,
before his heart could take a beat."

The two monarchs parted ways.
Promises rolling off their tongues
as sweet as the nectar they drank.
But were designed to attack the other's rank.
Their success depends on the other's defeat.

Conversation stalls as the monarchs fly home.
On wings decorated so finely.
Each of their thoughts seem to turn towards their sons
Just caterpillars before their transformations.
Weaving their chrysalis with determination.

Though they're far apart
the monarchs speak the same words

"I fear for you, my son, in this great world,
Our reign can never last for long.
But I wish for you to have your chance
To encapture the world in a trance
With a grace bestowed upon your wings
I wish for you to make others sing.
For I've seen the tragedy of the other king
Just before transformation
I saw a caterpillar die in its chrysalis."

"I saw a caterpillar die in its chrysalis,"

"I saw a caterpillar die..."

"My son, that has made all the difference."
© Tatiana
Tatiana Jun 2013
Move so swiftly
full of grace,
don't let your muscles bother you
with their dull aches.

You are flying
so high in your mind,
and your body falls into
a rhythm so undefined.

As you move
with the speed of light,
something upsets your groove
and everything goes dark.

You black out
your rhythm is lost,
now you're full of doubt
and everything is collapsing.

With a phenomenal effort
you refocus yourself,
you're covered in dirt
but you can't help but feel better.

Move once more
with grace and rhythm,
your aches are behind closed doors
and you sprint forwards into the future.
Tatiana Dec 2012
Sometimes I feel,
like I would die without my music.
The comfort
of my base drum's steady beat,
and the excitement of the snare drum
and symbols,
keeps me from being sad.

I remember,
when I first started to play the Oboe,
it was my new source of comfort,
something that I could always play,
and be happy,
along with my drums.
For years,
if you heard either the drums,
or the oboe,
coming from my room,
you knew not to enter.
I wanted to be alone,
and be absorbed into my music.

I got my own piano on year,
I would teach myself,
because I do not like it
when others force me to learn,
what can I say,
i'm stubborn.
I played the piano
everyday,
along with
the oboe, and
the drums.
Music was my happiness.

One day,
I became sad,
depressed almost.
I couldn't bring myself
to play my music.
My instruments just sat in my room,
untouched,
for weeks.
I couldn't bring myself
to play them,
at the time
it was easier to just lie
in my bed,
and do,
nothing.

But one morning,
i got up,
because I don't like,
the easy way out,
I was disgusted with myself
for taking that path.
Slowly, hesitantly I reached
for my oboe,
the instrument that I constantly
battled with.

I played part of a song,
that I learned years ago,
and I felt myself start to smile,
truly smile,
after weeks of fake smiling,
and pretending to be happy.

Sometimes the sadness,
can make the things you enjoyed doing,
into something you despise,
because it only held happy memories,
that will never occur again.
But they won't ever occur again,
because I was sad,
and not truly living.

But just the feel of playing my oboe,
made me understand
that things go wrong,
and sometimes you can't stop it,
but you must move on,
because if you don't
you will waste your life away,
becoming a shell
of your former self.
You'll die feeling alone,
in a dark room,
where you feel like
no one loves you,
even though that is not true.
I'm not really sure what happened, I just started thinking and typing, and this is the end result.
Tatiana Dec 2012
Everything and everyone seems to be against you,
just pick your head up and smile.
Don't let them know that they've gotten to you,
because once you let them get to you,
they've won.
Even if you lose,
hold your head high,
because you fought hard,
you didn't give up,
even when you heard the opponent's side cheering,
you kept fighting,
you didn't say die.
This was your final battle,
your last match,
and I watched you fight
so hard.
You were angry,
but you channeled that anger into power,
to help you fight your battle,
on the mat.
I watched,
cheering you on,
I could taste the intensity,
that filled the room.
Your opponent had you,
I knew it,
you knew it,
and sure enough,
the other team knew it.
But you didn't stop fighting,
like most people would,
you kept trying to turn the tide,
even though it wasn't working,
you kept at it,
with such will power
that for a minute,
just one minute,
I thought you could do it.
But the buzzer beeped,
and the match was over,
and you lost,
you looked over at me,
with such sadness in your eyes,
but all I did was lock eyes with you,
and gave you a stern look,
and you understood.
You head instantly shot up,
your eyes lost their sad look,
they were replaced with a look of pride.
You never gave up,
even though the odds were
against you,
and that my brother,
was absolutely amazing to watch.
My brother is almost two years younger than me and he wrestles and plays soccer. Every time he lost he would get super angry or sad and his head would hang and I kept telling him for several years now that if you lost you should keep your head held high because you don't want the other team to know that they have gotten to you and because you fought hard, and you kept trying, knowing that eventually you should be able to make something work. My brother also used to let his anger get the better of him and it would hinder his performance, but this time I knew he channeled it into his wrestling match, he got it out of his head and used it as fuel, and I was so proud of him. After he lost today and looked at me and I sternly looked at him, his head snapped up, somehow I made him understand in one look that he should not be upset because he did the best he could, he did everything right, sometimes you just get bested by someone else. I guess my lesson in this is it doesn't matter what the score is, if you work hard or play hard and then lose, your keep your head high because you know you did everything you could have done.
Tatiana Jul 2020
My desk is clear.

Unless you count the neat stacks of papers
I have yet to attend to
that sit on my left and right
except for right in front of me.
Right in front of me there is nothing
but a keyboard and a monitor that's lit up
with a too bright white page.
The cursor blinks in and out of existence
much like the ideas in my head.
I type a word then delete.
I type a sentence then complete
an entire page with great phrases such as:
"There once was a someone in a land
that was known for its great something or another.
The sky looked very pretty, maybe a few clouds
which are puffy and white
a large, dark bird flies across crying in victory
with a mouse hanging limp from its claws
and that someone stood on a hill,
or in their room, or on the street,
staring up at the bird and wondered
what it'd be like to fly,
or to hunt,
or to be the predator not prey,
to be feared not fearful.
Perhaps this someone will never know
what it'd be like to rule, to live on top of the hill,
as they'd always be stuck in the town below."
There are too many choices to manage
too many places this story could go
and my nameless main character
are they friend or foe?
I don't know!
I knock my neat stacks of papers to the ground
they scatter all over my office
I shut down my computer so that the screen goes black
and my reflection stares back, shakes her head
in judgement.
My pulse pounds in my temples as the pressure builds
and I look down at my desk to avoid my own eyes.

My desk is clear.
©Tatiana
my guys, writing is difficult.
Tatiana Jun 2019
May your final riot inspire
everyone near desperation
©Tatiana
I write the story so they'll know the truth.
.
Have you caught onto my theme?
.
Troublesome looks **** peace, my friend.
Tatiana May 2020
I plant another garden; sow seeds and pips.
Dirt stains my knees and my fingertips.
I go inside, escape the all-seeing sun
and erase any trace of ***** work I've done.
I don't know why
my hands are raw and dry.
Cracking at the seams of my skin,
revealed myself to be wrist-deep in sin.
I planted my garden, but at what cost?
What flowers grow when the gardener is lost?
©Tatiana
Do you ever wonder what your impact is?
Tatiana Sep 2015
My chest constricts for biological reasons
It has nothing to do with your charm.
My breath was taken from me today
but don't let that boost your ego.
My voice was hoarse and I was wheezing
see, this has nothing to do with lust.
My heart does not fill with love for you
it's my brain that tells me not to trust.
My threatening disease has not ended me
but my lungs still ache with each breath.

There is no point in romanticising a chronic illness
because it makes you think that this all means something else.
But it's funny because you caused this
and not in the way you thought you did.
So if you could please just put out the
Cigarette,
because while you enjoy it,
it's killing me much faster than you
*and I don't want to die so violently.
Tatiana Jan 2013
I seem to have lost,
my inspiration,
I don't know where it went,
it is hiding from me.
Every word I type,
is a struggle
to even come up with.
I don't feel creative,
I don't feel alive,
I just don't feel
right.
My thoughts
are locked up,
in a strong box,
that sits,
in the depths,
of my mind,
and my words,
to me,
don't seem to flow,
everything,
is all choppy,
and I don't like it.
I feel like
i'm dragging,
ideas,
out of my head,
letting them rip apart,
on the thorns my imagination
left behind,
and bleed slowly,
on the ground,
scattering,
and destroying themselves,
shriveling up,
in a ******,
pool,
of unfortunate ideas,
that never make it,
to paper,
and they die.
I can't remember them,
they don't sit in my mind,
and they lose their,
significance,
to me.
And I feel guilty,
because of,
this block.
I feel like i'm murdering,
my ideas,
and they're innocent!
and i'm killing them,
without a second thought!
I hope some inspiration hits me soon,
because if it doesn't,
then I don't know,
what I will do.
All day long I was working on a history term paper and it just completely deprived me of my imagination and creativity for today, and all I have in my head is facts, and me trying to organize them. Hopefully writing this, will awaken my imagination... I already tried reading some of my other works and that didn't help, I just ended up judging them and cutting them down and almost deleting them, so I stopped and wrote this right away. My inspiration better come back soon or I might go missing for a while..... i'm sorry if that happens, if it does, then I... i'll come back, I just don't know when...... I'm sorry....
Tatiana Nov 2012
I think my life is ending
For i feel like i am done
But my head is constantly yelling
That i have not yet won

My entire life seems to be
So difficult, and unsure
But a little boy once smiled at me
And told me were all pure

I think my life is starting
For i feel like i am one
And seeing that little boy keep smiling
Makes me think we all have won
Tatiana Dec 2017
My eyes can trace the next steps
carefully caress the footprints
As they're within several feet
and at the distance
My vision can't be beat.

But the steps seem to travel further
Wuthering winds blow dust over them
and my vision becomes blurry
I'll lose sight of them soon
If I don't hurry.

Myopia is so commonplace
Commenting on its existence
seems silly to me
But I'm a slave to my glasses
Without them, I can't really see.
© Tatiana
Tatiana Jan 2013
Empty room,
dead girl,
white sheets,
with scarlet stains.
Slit throat,
****** mess,
but yet there is,
no evidence,
of the killer.
No foot prints,
no finger prints,
no DNA,
no nothing.
He has escaped,
without a trace,
and all that's left,
is a dead girl,
and a unique crime scene,
that has no leads,
and is a mystery.
Tatiana Jan 2019
The heathens of this season
bind me to metallic reasons.
The traction should be nonexistent
and yet i'm frozen in an instant.
I fear i'll remain here,
for longer than a year.
Frozen to the metal
of my winter struggle.
Tatiana Dec 2012
Nightmares,
are complete nonsense,
don't worry about them,
was what she was once told.
She woke up from another dream,
where she was stuck,
frozen in place,
as the evil monsters,
circled her
and advanced,
slowly,
one step at a time,
closing the circle,
tighter and tighter,
until she felt she couldn't breathe.
Then she would wake up.
But this time it was different,
she woke up
to darkness.
She tried to get up,
but someone,
was holding her down.
Something was over her face,
suffocating her.
Her nightmares were warnings,
when she was little.
But now they're reality.
She knows,
that if she doesn't act,
her nightmare,
will win.
And she won't wake up,
this time.
Kind of a play off of one of my poems. http://hellopoetry.com/poem/failure-is-kind/
Tatiana Apr 2013
Brace yourself,
as time moves forwards,
stand stiff,
and tall,
don't let your past,
claim you.
You are not who you were,
you're now someone
better,
believe in that.
Believe in yourself,
your past means nothing,
it may shape you,
but it does not control you,
so don't let it.
The only thing really standing in your way,
is you.
So relax,
and give into the new moment,
you now have nothing to lose.
So now,
you have no excuse.
Tatiana Oct 2019
I stole the moon from your sight
made you face the darkest night.
You waited, cowering, for the sun to rise
still unaware I robbed you of your eyes.
Taken from your skull with skillful hands
and shoved in urns buried beneath the sands.
The night cooled the earth where I made you lie
and truth was told to say goodbye.
Souls hollowed out like bones in birds
and broken as if trampled by herds.
Some skitter across the earth stirred
by the wind, others like yours, remain interred.
You should take a look at the sun up so high.
See for yourself what questions can buy.
Don't you understand why you were banned?
Soulless sockets somehow cry sand.
©Tatiana
A bit spooky for the spooky season. But also, I was going for the "I" perspective to sound somewhat evil and desperate. You know when you hear the punishment a person receives and it feels like it was too much. That the punishment didn't fit the crime and it leaves you with that terrible feeling in your stomach. That feeling of "this is wrong." That's what I was going for.
Tatiana Dec 2012
A girl crouched on the snowy ground,
her head was bowed
like the branches of the oak tree,
heavy with snow.
Before her lay a man,
with fresh snow
falling gently onto his pale face,
his chest heaved with the effort to breathe,
his eyes were calm,
and they locked with the girls large eyes,
"No fear," he whispered,
followed with an uncontrolled coughing fit.
The girl nodded her head slowly,
yet fear still rang deep in her heart.
The man's chest started to slow,
and with one ragged breath,
his chest went still.
The snow stopped briefly,
and the entire world held it's breath
as the girl leaned forward
and kissed the man's forehead,
he was cold,
colder than ice.
The snow started to fall again,
harder this time,
the girl watched
as it covered the man's body.
Behind her,
the oak branch snapped
under the weight of the snow,
the girl didn't flinch.
She looked at the mound of snow
that hid the man,
her father,
she got up
and started to walk away,
she looked over her shoulder,
and smiled,
"No fear,"
she whispered to the quiet world around her,
and she walked away,
her footprints being erased,
by the falling snow.
Tatiana Jun 2018
There's a body on that park bench,
the new attraction in this town.
They don't know how it got there,
but it has certainly been found.
By passerbys who were passing time
seeing the body sitting there
and not saying a word to anyone
because no one cares.
It's just another body
and it gets recorded in the system.
Writing off a human life
as another simple statistic.
Because that's what we are to most
a number thrown around carelessly.
Twisted, abused just to make a point
normally by political parties.
Funny how the body was not reported,
not recorded as a public statistic.
Until the smell of what once was
turned rotten and horrific.
Then it could not be ignored anymore,
people reported its presence
and glared with arrogant eyes
at a shell that once contained a life.
The lack of compassion so evident
that it could make those of good heart
turn to more evil spirits
drinking until they fall apart.
Then the spectators open their mouths
and words of disgrace would escape
assassinating the character of the dead.
Killing them all over again.

I'd have killed them if I could
people like them are no good.



© Tatiana
This was dark.
Tatiana Sep 2018
The cranium persists even with a bruise on my brain.
No, I do not wish for an ounce of pain
    and no, I do not feel like I am a strain.
There is no malintent that flows through my veins.

The rib cage persists even with a bruise on my heart
No, I do not wish for both sides to fall apart
    and no, I do not feel like I am able to restart.
There is no malintent that flows through my art.
© Tatiana
Tatiana Oct 2013
Your mind dances on the stage
and you love the way it feels.
But you trip and feel rage,
and your mind starts to reel.

You're frozen in place,
you have made a mistake.
You feel like a disgrace,
everyone thinks you're a fake.

But that is not true,
watching eyes are filled with compassion.
But you have no clue,
that people have this kind of passion.
...
To never kick someone when they're down...

*To be continued
Tatiana Nov 2013
You chose your next path,
and no one knows where you went.
You could only imagine the wrath,
of the minds that are crooked and bent.

You're running to a place,
that you've been once before.
The sound of water fills the space,
it's a place you truly adore.

It is that waterfall from the start,
and you sit on the ground next to it, waiting.
The way the water falls pulls at your heart,
and it keeps you from fading.
...
No need for an ending when it's only the beginning...

*The End
This concludes my "No Need..." Poems. I might revisit something like this later on, because I like the idea of a chain of poems that mean something.
Tatiana Nov 2013
Curtains are down,
waiting to rise on your cue.
But you don't want,
your life to be a view.

All you have to do,
is say "rise."
But something is preventing you,
it must be your certain demise.

The curtains never rise,
you won't let them exploit your life.
The crowd can not surmise,
the reasons for your strife.
...
and you left them awed with wonder...

*To be continued
Tatiana Nov 2013
Leaving backstage,
you take the last door.
You're escaping your cage,
that kept you chained to the floor.

You're running forever,
you don't plan on stopping.
Then in your hand there's a feather,
and it leaves you gawking.

That feather is white,
and an owl flies overhead.
The peace you feel is bright,
and yet you still imagine the dread.
...
Of the next choice you will make...

*To be continued
Tatiana Oct 2013
Water cascading,
over perilous rocks.
Where you were seen fading,
and falling like blocks.

Straight to the point,
you're ending your life.
Sleep now anoints,
your eyes and strife.

Down you go,
into the dark.
Your mind flows,
and forever it embarks.
...
On its own journey...

*To be continued
Thoughts that will continue in later poems. All the poems related to this will start with "No Need..."
Tatiana Oct 2018
My words have lost their way.
I'm sorry there's no poem today.

My words
                  have lost
                                  their way
I'm sorry there's no poem today.

My have words their lost way.
Sorry i'm no there's poem today.
© Tatiana
Tatiana Sep 2015
There will be no roses on my grave
I do not want the red to mark where I lay
No people will mourn my life gone away
All the animals will retreat to the cave

People should cry at this untimely death
But no need to make so many trips
Because I just want to part my lips
And speak all the words that I once kept

There will be no fancy funeral
The coffin will shape who I am
I want them to remember who I was when
I didn't believe the race was so futile

So there will be no roses on my grave
Instead lay down lilacs
So every spring my scent will come back
And it will remind only you to be brave
Tatiana Sep 2015
Oh the nostalgia,
Oh memory lane,
a poet's dream that we try to capture
in vain
because the essence of what once was,
is never the same,
as the situation is
and that is beautiful.
Beautifully lame.
Because how can one song
Trigger a lifetime of memories
If the song has no real meaning to you.
But it was the feeling,
The freedom,
The risk,
And that's why it triggers so many thoughts and memories
Pain and happiness,
And if I cry in the middle of class
While writing this,
Then it's okay,
I can feel
I can feel
I can feel.
Tatiana Jun 2018
It's 11:34 pm
and I'm drinking by myself again
because I'm 21 now
still living at my parent's house
and I don't know when I'll move out.
I'm in a permanent panic about my education
because I ended up hating what I was majoring in.
I still don't know what I want to do with my life
my heart is heavy with strife.
When I was little my dreams were plenty and full
of color but now they are always dull.
I can't imagine myself having a career
so now I'm stuck at home for a year
working part-time at a retail job
and doing my best not to sob
at every little upsetting thing
and I can no longer sing.
My throat has been hurting for far too long
is this really the end of my song?
Just feeling lost and wondering if I managed to damage my vocal chords
Tatiana May 2019
-------------------------------------------------------
         ­          I
                    feel
                        so
                         woozy
                            uneasy
                            my mind
                        is feeling
                   queasy
                 and
                   nothing
                       that I do
                           seems to
                      make this
                    go away
       not even just a cup of tea
   can keep these dreadful shivers
  at bay and I am left wondering if I will
  ever feel okay. Am I going to         turn
    out to be something great? Or will I
          stumble into oblivion
and no one will remember my name.

-------------------------------------------------------
©Tatiana
I guess I'm going to have to make another cup of tea and see if I like that one.
Tatiana Nov 2012
Now is the time
to take a chance
even if it's risky
I just have to see
what will happen

Now is the time
to make a move
even if i'm unsure
I just have to be
a bit more confident

Now is the time
to be determined
even if i'm scared
I have to make things better
and that will happen

Now is the time
to stop being afraid
of the response I may get
or may not get
and I know I will be better
in the end
Tatiana Jul 2019
To avoid the hurt welling u    p in my chest
I needed to keep moving t    o avoid it
So I climbed my way to t    he top
of the cruel mountainsi    de
while rain fell down o    n
my pale, wincing fac    e
and I laced my fing    ers
together in a sort o    f
embrace and shiv    ers
began to race up     my
spine, so with h    aste
I began to pac    e on
top of slick r    ock
not paying     attention
to where I     was stepping
and I slip    ped and fell
the tears     began to well
up in m    y eyes
no sur    prise
I bro    ke myself again
whi    le I was trying
to    hide
f    rom
    him
©Tatiana
I break bones like I break myself; Obliquely.

Decided as of right now that this might become a series that I'll reference as "The Fractured Series" because that could be fun
Tatiana Dec 2012
Sweet lullabies,
float along the staff lines,
played by instrument,
that can croon sweet tones,
into ones ears.
But yet,
the same instrument
that can sing so softly,
and beautifully,
can be loud and obnoxious,
making the treble clef,
tremble with anger,
or fear.
This one instrument,
is so sweet, mysterious, and haunting,
but at the same time,
its loud, angry, and obnoxious.
It's unique,
just so beautiful,
and rare.
It's my perfect match.
I've played the Oboe for six years now, and I would never give it up. I used to take band in school but I quit because I disliked the class, even though the teachers really wanted me to stay. They would give me solos and important parts in songs, they told me how good I was at the Oboe. However, I don't think i'm as good as they think I am, but the Oboe is my musical match, there is nothing more unique than the Oboe and I still play the instrument everyday, I will never drop it.
Tatiana May 2021
To my dearest heart, wherever you are...
What say you?
Should I plant roses in place of graves
bring life to death like months of May?
Or plant daisies for every lady
degraded when they don’t drop to their knees?
Shall I reinvent marigolds
so that their yellow-gold glows
when darkness falls upon our souls?
Or maybe I should scatter seeds
let flowers grow freed?
My dearest heart, danger days will come,
flowers will die and not be enough.
But until you know this, I cannot rest.
Of all the flowers I grow, I care for yours best.
©Tatiana
It's easier to grow flowers for those I love than to grow flowers for myself.
Tatiana Nov 2014
It's one of those day
when I look in the mirror
and I question if it's even myself anymore
on the other side.
Tatiana Dec 2019
I stood on the side of a busy road
on a winter evening, not many years ago.
The blaring red and white lights,
sometimes yellow or even blue
had me squinting in response
but I didn't move from my spot.
No matter how close the cars passed me by.
No matter how much the lights hurt my eyes.
And I was approached by some sort of ghost
who leaned on the guardrail next to me.
"Nice weather we're having,"
he said to me in a way of greeting,
and flashed me a smile of broken teeth.
A helmet damaged and hung down his back,
the straps still clipped together.
A **** in his skull bleeding down his pale face
and several bones out of place.
Could he still feel that pain?
Next to him was his mangled bicycle.
"Bit of a blind turn?" He asked me.
It was a rather difficult turn.
I nodded my head in agreement.
"It's gonna rain soon. You should get going."
The ghost continued.
"I think I'll stay," I replied.
The ghost shook his head.
"Listen, once that rain starts
you're a few minutes away from a tragedy."
I didn't reply.
"The minute it happens, you'll wish it hadn't."
the ghost insisted.
The rain he spoke of started to fall
and I remained where I was
leaning against guardrail.

"I'm not leaving," the ghost said.
"I'm not leaving until you go home."

"Well, we have only a few minutes now.
I'll be home soon enough."
©Tatiana

A tragedy
Tatiana Nov 2012
Our life is like a story,
The page turns and so does your day,
For better or for worse.
You read a chapter,
Its like a month went by.
You close the book,
And your life ends,
Making your story,
Memorable.
Tatiana Aug 2019
Outside the cigar shop is an elderly man
he is leaning against a parking meter
fumbling the quarters he pulls from his deep pockets
and dropping them into the machine
the metal clinking as it accepts the change
and only reading 20 minutes
the old man scowls at the meter and puts in more coins
until it reads 1 hour
he digs around in his pockets and turns them inside out
he has no more
grumbling to himself, he pushes away from the meter
entering the cigar shop
and I'm left sitting in my car wondering
how we can spare some change for more time
for the things that will lessen the time we already have
©Tatiana
Tatiana Jan 2019
Pain is a peculiar feeling
solely because of the ways it can be felt.
Piercing one moment.
Dull the next.
Stabbing this day.
Subsiding the other.
Emotional on a Monday.
Physical by Friday.
Absolutely mental on all days
that end in Y.
Tatiana Jan 2015
Pain is like water
increasing the pressure inside a can
with a tightly closed lid.
It keeps building and building
the force of the water is getting stronger
then it explodes.
The lid flies off and the water flows out,
but that's not the end.
The water keeps spreading
and you can't put a lid on it
or it will burst again.
You have to let the water run its course,
allow yourself to feel it wash over you.
Then when it is time,
the water will drain away
and you can finally put the lid back on the can.
Tatiana Jan 2019
If you see men pass through
a desolate room,
and fade out of existence.
You've seen ghostly residue
of men lead to their doom.
You've seen a past violence.

If you see women pass through
large, empty halls,
and constantly look over their shoulders.
You've seen how societies' glue
is stalked within the walls.
You've seen a fear that's grown colder.

If you see people pass through
the pages of your books,
look closely at who's remembered.
Four men die and get their due,
four women can't escape threatening looks.
Only one group ends up dismembered.

If you see me pass through
a part of your life,
please don't have any doubt.
You've seen this world's terrible retinue
that haunts and causes strife.
Yet the sight of me makes you pass out.
© Tatiana
Tatiana Jun 2019
Perhaps endings are carefully erased.
©Tatiana
Will we ever know what truly happened?
Tatiana May 2015
I can rest easier now.
My head hurts less than it did before,
my thoughts slow down
when it's time to sleep.
I can allow the world to just shut down
and be at rest.

For once in my life
I can sleep in peace.
Tatiana Dec 2020
talking on the phone makes my skin crawl
I can't see who I'm talking to
maybe they're rolling their eyes
or silently laughing as I trip over my words
perhaps they're trying to hide me
for someone else in the room would rather I not speak
and it's ridiculous, truly, I don't want to talk
People calling requesting estimates for their homes
no heats, no ac, no need to hear from me
I'll check the messages and send them on their way
but they call again and again and again
wanting to know if I got their message
do they really need to hear from me?
Honestly! I'm the go between!
Just leave a message with the info I requested
on my answering machine.
I got your message, I really did
I sent it to where it needed to go
you don't have to talk to me, please stop trying
I turn the volume down on my phone
stop calling me, I won't answer
but your message won't go unheard
stop calling me, I won't answer
my silent phone rings with recorded words
©Tatiana
Every time my phone rings at work for the past 2 days, my skin has crawled. So I'm letting things ring out, recording the messages and then returning calls if need be or sending the messages to where they need to go. Because I can't answer a phone call right now without feeling massively unprepared for whatever conversation may happen. I don't like phone calls and there are days where I can handle them no problem. And then there are days like yesterday and today where the thought of picking up that phone makes me nauseous and I can't even focus on what I'm supposed to do because I'm so nervous about it.
It'll pass. I know it will. I'd like for it to pass sooner though.
Tatiana Jun 2020
They said I divested Saturn of his rings
and asked if he would dance with me.
He squeezed my fingers so heat lingered.
I knew he was told I'm a danger;
that I don't feel, that I don't kneel,
that I'm a terror, but that isn't fair.
Just say he can't make his own choices.
Say he can't control his impulses.
Why would I tempt a planet to ruin?
Why would I tempt a god to consuming
each breath before it disappears?
Confined him to my strong atmosphere.
Then call my heart weak as it beats in threes
how convenient, toes tap to odd melodies.
For my body's from Venus, how divine.
Yet I was a borne sinner, so keep me in line.
He said good evening as I said goodnight,
atoms were buzzing in the sunlight.
He grinned like I was a prize to be won
It was almost as bright as the starry sun.
So I lead him a bit further and took great care,
Saturn broke his orbit for an affair
and threw himself into the fire.
He was burning desire as I played the lyre.
Strum a gentle song for the end of love,
call me a heartless, winged-rat dove.
Say this is how I feel; this is who I am.
Say I sent an innocent to be ******.
Call me a fiend, a demon, a liar,
when I'm just a woman who played a lyre.
©Tatiana

I don't know. I just had "they said I divested Saturn of his rings" in my head and it lead to this. What do you think?
Tatiana Sep 2013
It's Fall now,
leaves falls down,
and everything
was starting to die.
And your eyes,
started to fill,
to the brim.
With,
water.

Don't cry.

It's Winter,
all is white,
and everything,
was dead underneath.
And your eyes,
were frozen,
wide and glazed.
With,
ice.

Don't cry.

Spring is here,
goodbye cold,
and everything,
is saying hello.
And your eyes,
are melting,
with happiness.
You're,
alive.

Don't cry.

Summer,
came again,
and everything,
was starting again.
But your eyes,
are not filled,
with happiness.
Just,
sadness.

Please,
don't cry.
Tatiana Feb 2015
Don't you understand that I am a poison?
I will take you down too.
So I dare you to bite me,
fight me,
I dare you,
because when you're enjoying your sweet victory,
i'll be swimming in your veins
slowly killing you
like you have killed me.
For I am your poison
and you are mine.
Tatiana Dec 2012
Do you see the little lights flashing,
along the lonely highway?
That will lead to the dead end streets,
of the failing misery.
Do you see the dark buildings,
and all the abandoned rooms?
Do you know the truth behind the scenes,
of the cluster of buildings?
Oh those poor children,
their days are numbered,
and I don't know what will happen,
to them.
Tatiana Aug 2022
Dewdrops sparkle with spiders' silk
Twinkling like stars in the sky
Sad that all of them have died
Sad that spiders live short lives
Substances seep into my skin
I don't know their ingredients
Smooth age before it sets in
Fill all my gaps with plastic
Pretty nice things are never sweet
Quiet homes thrive on busy streets
White lies kept our hearts in line
White fences hid vicious crimes

Tighten the belt around my waist
Hopefully I suffocate
Before the final hole is made
In the noose on my vanity

Quicken the pace of self decay
Rot like flowers in early May
Diseased; succumb to earthy graves
Be welcomed back from which you came
*Tatiana
Tatiana May 2018
Here comes the procession.
They march through streets muddied with rain.
They're lead by figures dressed in black.
People look on in fear at their raven masks.

The birth of the daughter was sad,
because there's a sickness that plagues this land.
It feeds on those doomed to a horrible fate.
Though they start out their lives in innocence.

No one knows when it will end,
how does death take one's hand?
Those figures dressed in black take off their masks,
to reveal humans who have been put to task.

But people move on and pretend,
that this plague does not prey upon them.
Only a certain few must suffer the memories,
and they'll question the silence of this land.
© Tatiana
This is a continuation of my poem "The Curse of Mankind" https://hellopoetry.com/poem/2493827/the-curse-of-mankind/
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