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 Feb 2019 thesa
UnitingWriting
The way you stand
The way you sit
The way you secretly laugh for a bit
You’ve been hurt
You’ve been broken
And yet your heart is wide open
You think no one sees
You think no one cares
But that is really just not fair
Because I see
Because I do
My heart is filled by just looking at you
 Jan 2019 thesa
Trin
Poetic Irony
 Jan 2019 thesa
Trin
Isn’t it funny,
The happiness we pretend to have
Is the very thing
Holding us back from living.
 Jan 2019 thesa
olivia anne
Untitled
 Jan 2019 thesa
olivia anne
i hate this stream of consciousness style
like nothing i write
has meter
rhythm
or rhyme.
it’s just my thoughts on paper
all jumbled up;
not even i can make sense of it.
 Jan 2019 thesa
Meghan
hello,
have you been
well?
i guess not,
for your attention
in my poem
could tell
sorry if this nurse
took so long
in finding
the perfect words
to cure
your soul
first,
strip your clothes
and
stand at the mirror
gaze at the
creature with
the foggy figure
there's
a sinkhole
in those eyes
and a temporary
stitch whenever
you would
smile
the collarbone
which hides,
suffocates from the
blanket of skin
with
sickening lies
it penetrated
and
corrupted your mind
ignored the
fact and just
romanticized
the beast
will **** you,
please
don't find
it ****
the chaos is screaming
later on
you'll be
empty
i know how
a reflection
cries
you lost yourself
you lost you
it's like
having a stray cat
beneath your
tissues
a wandering stranger
sails from
the memories
of truth
overflowing blood
choaked
your dilemmas
too
it mimicked the
fire of hell
in those
shoes
the greatest harm
you'll ever
cause you
but why a
nurse
and not a
doctor?
listen here,
you are your
fighter
the cure and the pain,
which decision
will define?
all i can
say is,
save yourself
from death,
because
it hasn't
deseved you yet
go ahead
and fight your
way to life
I suffered from these issues. And I don't have to wait to heal completely so i could serve my people.
 Jan 2019 thesa
Wanderer
Artists are often
broken people
using the fragments of themselves
to create something new
and although
being healed
feels so complete
sometimes i want to be broken again
sometimes i want open wounds
so i can use the blood
to paint sunsets
so i can use the torn off pieces of skin as a canvas
so i can carve
masterpieces with the jagged bones left behind
but I can't bring myself to break my own heart in the name of Art
waiting for the boat
stormy waters and grey sky
anxious is her mind
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