in a world full of filters
and plastic surgery
and fake influencers
it's hard to find verisimilitude
people lie for money
or fame
or for a grain of attention
how can we tell what's real
and what's a facade
but I see a speck of hope
this community is full of verisimilitude
our words flow from our fingers
leaving us stripped to our bones
and vulnerable
as we pour our hearts out
and bare our souls
finding likeminded individuals
who understand our pain
and joy
and sadness
and love
this community is full of verisimilitude

the door swung open
gusts of wind pushing be back
as I stumble from the force
yes it is true
I have witnessed a tempest
my hair whips my face from the gales
chills ripple under my skin from the freezing air
yes it is a tempest
such a commanding storm
the walls creak from the dominating weather
such a beautiful violence

I feel like I'm running out of time
seconds minutes hours days months
all slipping from my grasp like sand
like I'm not doing enough
like there's not enough time for my dreams
it seems like yesterday I was 14
now I'm on my way to college in a month
not enough time
slipping away from me
can I do this in my limited lifespan
I may seem young
and that I have plenty of time
but it seems to pass me by faster and faster
maybe I'll blink and wow!
another year will've passed

I write and write and write
in no way am I laconic
the words flow and flow and flow
pages and pages and pages filled
watching notebooks pile up
my thoughts and emotions
filling each page
my very essence poured into my poetry
laconic is never and will never
be a part of me

I am comfortable with veracity
facts are true and unchanging
solid and reliable
something I can depend on
but my emotions hit me at full force
they leave me out of my depth
they're chaotic and everchanging
it's like being thrown in off a cliff
and struggling to swim in a choppy ocean
I can say I'm going to college
that's a fact
but emotions come in to play
when I think of how I'm leaving
my parents and cats
eagerness and uncertainty
hope and fear
excitement and homesickness

one simple word is holding
me captive
my thoughts begin to bombinate
inside my head
you left me on read
I'm trying to stay calm
and rational
but my thoughts bombinate
inside my head
and my overthinking self
kicks in
what if you don't want to be
friends any longer
what if you were too busy to respond
what if I annoy you
what if you forgot to reply
my thoughts bombinate
in my head
as I struggle to stay rational
and calm

I love writing
whether it's poetry
or creating stories
it would be a dream come true
if I could do this for a living
but the voice in the back of my head
is dubious
it tells me things that bring my hope down
what if I'm not good enough at this
what if no one likes my words
what if I lose my passion
and I'm left with nothing
but dubious thoughts