Please notice what I've done
My pride is hurting from the things that
I spent hours on
Instead the ones I barely think of
are liked more above the rest
In fact the ones I barely think on
to me are just grotesque
See what I can really do
'A river is a thought of defiance
A flower the hated love between the two'
See what I can say, draw, and write
What I hear and know
Please tell me that you love them and me
Please do not let me go
Let me sleep until reality turns grey
Let me breathe until my lungs tear to shreds
Let me live alone in a house with a cat
Let me not be touched or tainted
But the world wants you to be touched
The world wants you to see reality in all its horrifying colors
The world wants you to breathe softly
And to live with the noises and smiles
Of the house you always dreamed of.
We've locked ourselves
in rooms of steel
created safe places
designed like prison cells
everyone says there is no way
without someone to call out our name
and no way to be free
without a light to guide us through the maze
But it will always have to be our feet
that takes us through this hell
And our own eyes
that will lead us well
Relying on others to help you is wrong
a delusion taught to you
through poems, stories, and songs
It will only be you and your willingness to heal
But that does not mean you have to walk alone
to break down all your seals
Stop this searching for that 'one true love'
the more you look
the further your real goals will become
to truly love another
is to forgive and mend yourself
because resenting your actions
only hurts everyone else
you do not love if you hurt and hate
it will only be your hands
that opens your heart's gate.
True love takes work
true love takes time
it only comes across your heart
when you work hard to be of sound mind
But what would I know?
I'm only sixteen
what experience would I have gone through
to really know what that love means?
Be kind, be gentle, be the silent strength inside.
Be a stream that leads to a river.
Nostalgia for something that never was
And things that never will be again
Watermelons while sitting in cold tubs outside
Happy golden days beneath a window's warmth
Which one could have ever been real?
Were all those memories I created fake?
Am I the real version of myself?
Or just another way to cope with what I've done?
In the splashes of color the most purest form of emotion
seems to be happiness, as if this is the natural order of things
So in this sense
Humanity is yellow
And I am blue.
Tears can splash to the ground
You could shake in fear and rage all you want
But as soon as they smile
And push aside your claims with a laugh
You're absolutely ******
Collecting information and writing it down in a journal
People cross by in fear or interest
a human as analytical as a robot and emotional as a puppy
Writing it down, each move
Then I get up
ignoring complaints and compliments
And I help them all
hmm not my usual category of poems...