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maura Feb 2014
The most fragile thing is not
Your mother’s favorite china
Or your family's crystal glasses
Or a teenage girl’s heart
Or even your most prized possession.
But what the most fragile thing is,
Is your own life.
In loving memory of Mandi, Paige, John, Garrett, and Mrs Mallory.
Ivie Oct 2013
A fragile little bird, with a torn wing sits on a wire, separate from the others, clinging to himself in the cold wind

All his life he has had to hold his lungs close to himself, hold his heart even closer, for heart is a traitor

Hold it in, close the doors and nail the wooden planks, line the heavy furniture long the doors ,walls naked devoid of any ink that would sketched his heart,

Windows bleached to strip off any residue of sunlight that might have clung to it, fragments of his soul and snatches of painful memories and strings of feather lie like a rug on the floor,

Thousand words as lithe and sharp as spears and bullets, crash, burn, the outlines of his heart, they steal an inch of his soul little by little,

  Terrorists crawling into the skyscraper, there are 22 bombs on the top floor

There are thousand bombs in his heart, that never burst like anguish of people does, but when it bursts,

It busts like meteorite crashing, tearing, slashing, and destroying every inch of land that ever grew flowers

A bird, careless and homeless, falls off from the pole, the fragile little bird opens up his arms, she descends  like an autumn leaf, signal of change,

Her painting lines his empty walls, and her words clambered up his heart and opened up his arteries

But she, a careless little bird, saw pale skin; she never saw the flaming mind looming inside,

And it burst like an atom bomb, bullet filtering though her veins

His aim was never at her, but she was the victim of his anger

His anger was only consequence to those thousand bullets aimed at him,

The fragile little bird like a crystal glass dropped, crashes into tiny shards,

That ****** your feet and bleed into droplets of lost happiness.
Kim Mar 2018
We're almost touching.
we were walking side by side,
you're talking about cabs in your hometown.
I can feel the gravity of your hand, calling my fingers
whispering "it's alright."

We're touching but not quite.
you held my shoulder to protect me from the passing cars.
and for the first time in a long while, I felt so fragile.
In this world where I find it hard even to breathe,
you believed me.

I almost said it.
All I need is one ounce of strength to tell you every single thing that I have ever felt about you.

I want to find home in your collarbones.
Would you be kind enough to let a stranger in?
I want to seep in your being because I'm cold.
The world is harsh and my cracks are aching.

Almost.
Please don't ever become a stranger,
whose laugh I can recognize anywhere.
Chase Alexander Nov 2017
Fragile rose and crystal clear.
Falling through my atmosphere.
Falling hard and falling fast.
Looking through my looking glass.

Fragile rose and crystal clear.
Find a way to disappear.
Falling hard and falling fast.
Running away from my past.

Baby, I know that you are here.
I can't explain it to you my dear.
They cut you open
and I watched you bleed.
Now I fall down to my knees.

I watched you bleed.
I watched you bleed
As I fell down to my knees.
I watched you bleed my fragile rose.

I thought I asked you not to cry.
You're  acting as if I just died.
I had my reasons to let you go.
Knocked you over
with a stubborn blow.

Pushed you down into your grave.
All I do is misbehave.
Talk g with me all the shame.
Playing my childish games.

I watched you bleed.
I watched you  bleed
As I fell down to my knees.
I watched you bleed my fragile rose.
abby Mar 2018
We are the ones who are hard to understand
We'll be the last ones in the movie theatre
because the ending scene made us cry
We'll stop to smell the roses
because they deserve to be appreciated
We are the ones who will take the time
to learn what keeps you up at night
We are the ones who will imagine
an entire future of adventures
with the people who show us love

We are the ones who will love you more
than we love ourselves
We will give you our strongest parts
in hopes that we can make things better
We desire to see you become the best you
to make sure that you always feel our love
We crave affection and appreciation
We give a piece of ourselves away every day
sometimes to people who don't deserve it
Our love is easy to take advantage of
and sometimes we don't get back
the love that we give away

When we hurt, we crumble and fall apart
We constantly have to put ourselves back together
We are more fragile than we like to give off
We carry our emotions on our sleeves
Our flaws have the ability to consume us
We aren't afraid to give you the world
but we are afraid to feel unloved
We want you to see what we see
We want you to understand where we're coming from

We are good people with good intentions
We are stronger than we believe
Not everyone can feel the way we feel
We feel too much, too often
We are not hard to love
We are something not everyone knows how to love
But you need to remember that
your worth does not change just because
no one is there to appreciate you, to remind you

You are not any less lovable
You are the most lovable person in the world
You are a light that the world needs
Your kindness is not your weakness
You do not need to change for anyone's acceptance
You do not need to stop giving love
just because you don't get any back
Your heart is the best thing about you

And one day when you least expect it
someone will notice you from across the room
and know exactly how to love you
They will think all of these things are beautiful
They will deserve the love you can give
They will fill the empty space in your heart
But for now, don't stop feeling
We are the ones who feel everything so deeply
We are the ones who can't give up because
We are the ones who will teach the world
how to love
We are exactly who we are supposed to be
imadeitallup May 2014
Blame it on
Your absent father
Your addict mother
Your unexpected children
Blame it on
Anyone, and anything
So you never have to
Take responsibility
For your own actions

It's the whiskey
That hit me
It's my own shards
That tore me apart
It's a malevolent God
That lied about love
'Cause you don't do anything

Blame it on
My fragile psyche
My insecurities
My "impossible" needs
Blame it on
Anyone, and anything
So you never have to
Take responsibility
For what you've done to me

It's the cigarettes
That stole my breath
The weight of my expectations
That broke my trust
The spinning of my own wheels
That drove me into madness
'Cause you don't do anything
Everyone has a **** like this in their life.
Nicole Corea May 2015
Mother,
I know you carry the seed of a fragile heart
Many men twisted your beautiful soul into demonic beast.
Unable to love ,unable to nurture.
Possessed to inflict pain on others.
Hungry to **** smiles.
To imprint the world with your glass heart.
You carry the seed of a fragile heart
There's so much faults between us,
So when our land begins to shake
We implode to explode.
Tumbling down every walls we built.
You carry the seed of a fragile heart
Two Fierce eyes, growling lips
Majestic Lion Preying On A Lone Wolf
Vile words
vile injuries
Ding ding
Blood spattered among our cheeks.
Ferocious souls panting.
Who are we Mother ?
What are we? Mother
Do you know Mom ?
You carry the seed of a fragile heart
I hate you so much , but I reconcile your broken veins.
I hate you so much , but I want to satisfy your fiery soul .
I want to carry your fragile heart to paradise.
Where I can love you as a daughter, not an enemy.
Mother,
I want you proud of me.
I want you to own me,
not disown me from your throne.
But how can I make you proud,
When my heart , the one you raised
Is impaired on forgiving you ?
**I carry the seed of a broken heart
rey Aug 2018
fragile is what i used to call myself.
i wasn’t to be played rough with.
my feelings and emotions
were too fragile for negativity.
the boys would tackle each other,
and i would watch them, not daring to join.
“Regan, you should play!”
“I’m too fragile to tackle.”

now i’ve noticed how tough i actually am.
my heart has been broken.
i’ve been called terrible things.
sometimes i wish i could punch something.
i’m not fragile, i’m strong.

I...am...NOT...fragile.
Luna Casablanca Nov 2014
Face overcome with blemishes,
arms ruled with scars.
Criticized for holding
teddy bears
and lounging alone at bars.
This insecurity
has a story.
Something behind this fragile door.
Stop yourself before offering help
she wants
no
     more.
She is fragile
she is afraid.
She knows her mental illness
is nothing that she can trade.
Let her be.
She is fragile like glass.
She cries as it shatters
then she is better, alas!
MyThousandWords Jan 2011
How can you defend the meager walls you've built,
when you're cornered
and working with fragile hands,
to protect a fragile heart,

when the pursuit of you has become too much to fight;
when you've run as long,
and as hard
as your quick, short breaths can take you?

You can't.

Your only option is to fall on your knees,
roll with the punches,
take the pain,
and beg for mercy when all's said and done,

And though there's a certain peace in
finally admitting defeat,

The scars will emerge, reminding you of your lapse in strength,
your pursuer's victory,
and the battle that will have forever left your fragile fortress
in utter ruins.
MeanAileen Mar 2017
I am warmhearted and icy cold,
with a pretty face that's getting old.
I am fragile yet tough as a man,
struggle thru life with no real plan.
I am petite and cuss like a trucker,
slightly naive, but I'm no sucker.
I am a sinner with a halo of gold,
an open book with secrets untold.
I am a hypocrite but always play fair,
a bleeding heart and I don't care.
I am a mother who acts like a child,
crazy, impatient and easily riled.
I am spontaneous and I am a bore,
forever forgiving, I still keep score.
I am unstable and wonderfully wise,
a ****** deviant in sweet disguise.
I am creative and self-destructive
naturally skilled and unproductive.
I am shy and I am outspoken
with a heart of stone, easily broken.
I am awkward and well refined,
lost, insightful and a little love-blind.
I am respected and I am addicted
shamed by burdens, self inflicted.
I am a perfectionist and I am a slob,
unbiased and shallow, an inept snob.
I am nocturnal, a creature of night,
blissfully ignorant, typically right.
I am cautious and I have no fear,
a loser and quitter, still I persevere.
I am brilliant and easily amused,
over-zealous and under-enthused.
I am impervious with wounds to heal,
an occasional liar just keepin' it real.
I am weird and lovely and mean-
I am what I am.......100 Aileen.
A lil bit about who I am...
ashley Jun 2017
at 4:14 am
im still wide awake
imagining your body on top of mine
captivating me,
your large hands running down my fragile, tiny body,
claiming everything you brush as "yours".
at 4:20 am im still awake,
imagining myself on all fours,
your hand grasping my hair,
pulling it into that tight ponytail i wear during the day,
while you're telling me about how you could never resist me,baby. your words alone leaving me drenched and ready for you.
it's 4:30 am, and texting you:
"are you awake?"
a gale Aug 2014
He hugs her tight
Hoping the pieces
That has fallen apart
Will somehow find ways
To go back and fill
The spaces they’ve left

*a. gale
Emery Feine Jan 7
I am not fragile like a flower
Though I’m sure you’d think so
I’m courageous enough to not cower
Though that’s not something you’d know

I’m completely and utterly explosive
If not that then I’m nothing
For I’m not fragile like an orchid
But isn’t that something?

I am counting down to the next hour
I am singing a forgotten song
I am not fragile like a flower
I am fragile like a bomb
.... --- -.-. / ..-. .-. .- --. .. .-.. . / -. --- -. / ... ..- -- / -. .- - ..- ... .-.-.-
Andrew Ciaciuch Sep 2012
With this ring comes a promise. You must be willing to accept it before you wear it. The promise is to love me for as long as possible as I will you. To love me through all the hard times that are yet to come as I will you. To love me and nurture me back to health on the days where I am sick as I will you. To love me and comfort me when I need it as I will for you. But most of all when the day comes where all that matters to be said is “I do”  when I say those words you will not hesitate to say them back to me.

Our love is not fragile, it is not shallow. Our love is strong and none can fathom how deep.
Our love is not short, it is not passing. Our love is for a lifetime and it is here to stay.
Our love is not one sided, it is not full of doubt. Our love is open and it is built on trust.
Our love is not for you or for me. Our love is for US.


Some say that the journey into life begins when you first enter this world. I have a theory that there are multiple journeys of life in the life that you live. There is obviously the journey into becoming a adolescence and then teenager (it is coupled with school). When that ends there is the journey into adulthood (can be accompanied by but not limited to college, vehicles, taxes, jobs, stress). But I believe the two most important journeys in life are the ones about love. The first one begins when you are first born, the second one begins when you find the right person. The first one is finding the person you belong with that you love with every fiber of your being. The second journey is simply to spend the rest of your life with this person. And as I have went through both of these (the first being a bit rough to start) I ask you  to join me in starting the second journey of love. I want you to be my lifelong partner in exploring the world.


If you choose to make this promise all you have to do is put this ring on your finger, and I will be yours for life.
I wrote this to go with a promise ring that I bought my girlfriend
Jake Espinoza Oct 2012
Today I felt my skin turn to bark as I leaned against a tree. I felt a warmth spread through me as I reveled in joy of hidden things. I watched people pass me by, had a conversation with a few people perceptive enough to notice my fringes.
    They said hello. You are difficult to notice.
    I nodded silent thanks.
    Why don't you speak?
    This is how I thought. You're asking a man nearly imperceptible why he stands so still.
    At times the bark or grass fell from me replaced with concrete or off-white plaster or the likeness of another. I stood and watched as I smiled, talked, acted, convinced, spoke from the heart, and not a souls suspects.
    When I feel like hiding, this is what happens: I become everyone. I become no one. I am tasteless, odorless, bland. I become no one, but not the kind of no one that gets noticed. I see that the truly homogeneous hide twofold, sixfold, eightfold. I hide that I am hiding that I am hiding that –
    Continuum. I become a vacuum of character, perfectly unremarkable.
    This is whenever I feel like it.
    Whenever I want it, my outline becomes harsh, sharply black against white against black leading to my deadened surface made vibrant by desire, by necessity, by conscious appraisal of the path of least resistance. Feeling clashes with wanting, the cacophony is maddening where such fragile melodies had once been harmonic. All of a sudden it is clear that I am hiding. I can no longer conceal the bare bones sprouting from my shoulders, clumsily fashioned into bare outlines of wings. All of a sudden I am laid bare, and the unfinished construct is revealed. Everything looked wonderful, immaculate, meticulously attended, even upon close inspection, until the keystone shook loose. Can't find adhesive that lasts more than a few months these days. My fragile creation appearing bold and strong, emanating vitality such that it can be gleaned with proximity, fell.
    All I can see are my feet or darkness.
    I cannot produce sound more substantial than murmurs.
    I cannot clothe myself but with scraps of cloth that fall with the most gentle breath of wind, but still I toil.
    The spectacle as it has become is made piteous by the clarity with which I am seen. My futile attempts to recover myself incite anger and pity. They fade, and sadness remains. I am in plain sight, as if illuminated by some unseen light, and I am understood. It is understood that I will continue affixing the fragile scraps to me until they stay. It is seen that I am undaunted by such a seemingly insurmountable task. After eons of exposure to the eyes of all, a scrap grafts itself again to my bare flesh. My lips spread slowly into a wicked grin – for it is known. It is known that those witnessing this disgusting degree of satisfaction at my own partial concealment will soon forget the fissured and sickly creature they now behold. They will soon forget what stood in the place of the great statue now erected around me.
    Inside, I stand in fear of the day when again I must build myself anew.
    Like a bird constructing its fragile nest, I take everything I can use. My toil is patient...careful. I refine tirelessly. The light turns hard and flat, but still I am great and formidable in my fragile, meticulous, manufactured splendor.
    One who remembers sees this, and knows that this is my true love.
    One among them all remembers.
    He is the closest thing I have to a friend.
Fragile strands of secret thoughts play in the twilight
While eternity dances a breath away
Morning is sleeping under a quilt of stars
Waiting for a burst of sunlight
To smile her way

A hummingbird rises to seek dew from flowers
Shedding tears of joy as he finds
Drops of heaven on the petals of a rose
Within the reach of his wings
Purely divine

Our kindred souls are carried away in delight
Enchanted by the sights we see
We both carry our own secret thoughts
To play and dance in the sunlight
Fragile but free
Copyright *Neva Flores @2011
www.changefulstormpoetry.blogspot.com
http://user.adme.in/blog/browse/u/Changefulstorm
cherryblossom Feb 2020
My HEART is always
FRAGILE.

FRAGILE like a GLASS.

FRAGILE where easily BROKEN

FRAGILE where easily DAMAGED

From the one who you LOVE and TRUST

Once they BROKE your FRAGILE HEART

No way to FIX it back
And
No way to TRUST them back
Once they enter, and they broke your love and trust. no way for you to love and trust them back.
Nishu Mathur Jan 2017
She seems strong - so she speaks,
She seems alive with life complete.
She shrugs a shoulder, couldn't care,
Love is war, a life's  dare,
She has loved and seen it go,
Love wilt in the midst of snow...
But say goodbye, gently, if you will,
Her heart is warm, fragile still.

She has laughed and she has smiled,
Dreamed enchantment on an isle.
She has risen,  heights soared,
She has seen closed doors.
She has fallen, again, to stand,
Dreamed a dream in never land...
But tread softly, on her, if you will,
Her dreams are young, fragile still.

She has seen loss and pain,
Prayers lost,  hopes slain.
Her heart in hands, she has wept,
Tired and weary, troubled, slept.
Transience is eternal, well she knows,
But her heart stronger never grows...
Break her  gently, if you will.
Her heart is tender and fragile still.
Nelviee Mhunang Oct 2015
You’re the prettiest
You are the cutest
And if I had to make a new word
It would be beautifulest

You’re the most charming
You are amazing
And why I find you pretty and sweet
I would say that you’re my heart’s beat

I see you grin from ear to ear
And dissolve into laughter
But I know you’re still stick in a labyrinth
Where you’re drown in pain

When you smile (cry)
When you laugh (break down)
I want my presence to be with you
And stop the skies for turning into blue

If you place your heart in my hand
I will keep it safe for me
I will cherish, care, protect, love
And treat it compassionately

I imagine that you’re like a glass
A glass that can easily be broken
And I want it on me to last
So that I can guard it even until the end

You as a woman is fragile
When broken into pieces, it’s painful to clean up
You may stick it up, but you’ll notice
The cracks still remain

I want to collapse into you
When your heart is bursting
And I want to hold you
When your bones are chilling

Everything on you is labeled fragile
And I don’t want to break anything on it
I just want to handle you with all my care
You are precious, you are wonderful.. Ever
Dorothy A Dec 2011
A rose in the middle of December is what I saw outside. Instantly, I connected this odd occurrence with my life. The thought hit my thoughts like a ton of bricks. That is what I am, I had thought to myself. That describes me.

As I looked out my living room window on a sunny, but freezing, Saturday afternoon, I was surprised to see this solitary rose that had bloomed on my mini rose plant.  Providing me with a few salmon colored roses each season of its bloom, without fail this plant regrows again and again in my garden. I first planted it there since forever ago, or so it seems.

Usually, such a flowering occurrence should be no big deal, nothing major or out of the ordinary. Certainly, I would not find this as something really noteworthy to write about. Rose plants do that kind of thing all the time.

But it was frigid cold outside, and the middle of December.

What a strange, yet amazing thing to behold! Maybe there is a proper explanation for it, but I don’t care. The petals were just as colorful as ever when really they should have wilted awy from the cold. All the other flowering plants in my garden surely did! It didn’t really make sense, but its presence was pretty awesome.

I eagerly went to find my camera to take a picture of my sweet, little rose. The grass was dotted with tiny patches of snow to show that-yes indeed-winter is really only days away from its official entrance. Plant activity and growth really should be over. Isn’t that right? I know we have had some warmer days during the previous month, but the icy cold seemed to have come to stay for a while. It surely defies logic to think of blooming flowers on such days.

I often look for “God moments”, as I call them, in which God gives me something to hold onto that reveals His love to me. Not looking for anything earth shattering, I see often see God in the little things, in the details of life. And I don’t even always look for such things, for sometimes I doubt God really cares or really is that effective in my life. You see, that is not uncommon for someone who deals with chronic depression. I learned early on in life that nobody is there for you, not really. I know Christians aren’t supposed to feel this way, but if I can be bold to be honest, I am. Often, I just think I’ll get by on my own. If I can’t get by on my own, I often try to put up with it instead of turning to God for help.  But lately I was feeling desperate.

Suffering with depression all of my life, and with managable anxiety, the thought of the approaching Christmas had been especially difficult for me. I know that people are “supposed to” feel uplifted with the holiday, but I was not. To reveal this is a source of shame to me, and I have learned to mask such uneasy feelings, trying to fake it for the sake of showing the world that I really am OK inside. It is like I expect everyone to look at me and say, “What’s the matter with you, loser!”

I knew I could find two things that would appeal to me—Christmas music and lights. Yet the music that I often love could not do it for me. The lovely Christmas lights, shining in the dark of night, didn’t matter either. I was feeling dejected, and I was growing weary with life—again. When not obligated to go anywhere, I felt like hiding from the world, feeling safer from anxious thoughts by myself. And as safe as I tried to feel in my comfort zone, this was frightening to me. This did not feel like living to me.

Is this how I am going to live out the rest of my pitiful life? This was one of my kinder thoughts.

I usually get through Christmas OK, making the best of it, but my losses often feel bigger than my blessings. In 1998, I lost an estranged brother to suicide. In 2005, I lost a father to Alzheimer’s, a few weeks after Christmas. In 2007, my mother had to spend Christmas in a nursing home recovering from major surgery. That year, I struggled through that season with very hopeless feelings, for my mother was in jeopardy of never walking again. She spent almost half a year in that place—a woman with sever scoliosis, and chronic back pain, who cannot stand for very long. In my hopelessness, I seem to forget the miracles in my life, for my mom’s return home seems like one to me.

I also see my father’s experience and death from Alzheimer’s as something far more than a tragedy. For many years, I avoided my father, wanting really nothing to do with him. Grudges surely seem larger than life over time, and although I wanted to forgive my father and seek reconciliation, fear often stood in the way. Even though my dad grew remorseful for how he raised his children, it took my brother’s suicide for me to find forgiveness for a man I thought never supported me or believed in me. For over two years, while my dad was ill and dying, the bond between us grew into something special. I know from personal experience that even in the difficult times, there are larger purposes involved.
  
No doubt, I have been provided with some huge challenges in life. Thankfully, I always pulled through when I surely felt that I would crumble into pieces. I clung to my faith in God, even when that faith felt like dying embers in a fire, for it seemed to be all that I had. Nothing else worked. Nothing else satisfied for very long. And when it did last, I wanted more and more, like a drug addict looking for his next fix.  

I have often been plagued with self doubt. What is my purpose in this life? Why am I here? I knew I was not alone in this thinking, reminding myself that I am not the most unique person in my suffering. So I searched the internet, a convenient source to turn to when you can’t seem to face people, and the world.  

Not wanting to live or value your own life is a horrible state of mind that I would not wish on anybody. I have relied on a depression medication since my brother died, and still do, but there had to be something more to help me. Deep down inside, I did not want to die, but I didn’t know how to live either. The heart of the matter was that in my worst bouts of depression, I was just so broken inside. I survived enough to go through the motions, but I felt like I was losing the battle—and really did not want to win the war anyhow.

I still remember the “God moment” I had when I was in London, England in August of 2011. At that time, life felt like an adventure as I went on my very first overseas trip to Europe. I have yearned to go to Europe since childhood. It was a Sunday morning in London, and a religious program was on. From what one man was saying on TV about his experiences, my ears perked up and I hurriedly scribbled some things down on a pad of my hotel paper before I forget some of his statements that stood out to me.

During my short stay in London, I was experiencing a cold. I wanted to feel Gods presence as I felt the swallowed up feeling of being a stranger in a faraway place. As intruiged as I was,  in the huge, bustling metropolis, I admit I was feeling a bit overwhelmed. I find big cities as places in which people pass others with no concern other than to go about their way. London was fascinating, but I am a suburbanite, for sure!

The things this man was saying on TV really impacted me at the time, and I now carry that scrap of paper around with me in my wallet. Little did I know that a few months later that these statements would help to pull me through from reaching into despair. That despair began a few months after that trip when I was quite sick with the flu, twice in a row, and feeling very isolated and weary.

Sometimes, we have to get into that place where all there is is God.

It is not that I did not believe in God. I did not think God believed in me.

Sometimes, we grow best in hard times.  

All my crooked crutches and phony props, as I call them, weren’t working. If the computer wasn’t taking up much of my free time, television was numbing my senses from the stark reality that life felt empty for me. Where was God? Logically, I knew I had no reason to be bitter, for I knew the answer. I felt so far away from Him, helpless and hopeless—yet I clung to this hope—God never moved at all. I was the one who walked away, but like the prodigal son in the Bible, God would be waiting there for me with a joyful expectation. I truly believe that even though I often wonder how God puts up with me.

It has been a long time—if ever—that I fully trusted in God alone. Yes, I believed in Him, and trusted in Jesus as my savior, but I often held back. I was still so angry and hurt about the past. Why didn’t God rescue me from such a horrible childhood? Why was I bullied in school? Why didn’t I have a better family? Why did loneliness and insecurity plague me as it did? Why wasn’t I beautiful? Why didn’t I have a better life? Why this and why that. Even though I logically knew better, in my hurt and wounded soul, life felt like a big, horrible mistake. God must have not cared about me. I may not have consciously acknowledged it, but my actions proved otherwise.

We live in a world where you got to be stronger, you got to be better; you got to be tougher; you got to be faster; you got to be more successful. The media pounds this into our brains all the time in many different forms. How many of us feel like we can never measure up? I am sure I am not alone in feeling the inadequacy. Yet I could not concentrate on anyone else’s pain when I was so wrapped up in my own.

A rose in the middle of December—I put it all into proper perspective. What a fragile looking thing, but an enduring one! It symbolizes to me the invincible, indelible human soul in the midst of an often perplexing world. When all around seems bleak, when life takes a toll on you, that remains unscathed, untouched by the trails we often have to face.  When we die, I wholeheartedly believe, it will be the only true thing that remains of us. When our bodies decay into dust, our souls will be like that rose, brilliant and beautiful.    

Besides myself, there are two groups of people, near and dear to my heart, which I could compare to that symbolic rose in my garden. My current job is working with special needs students, usually with autistic children and young adults. I worked 19 years in a bland office job, and could not ignore the constant nagging feeling to get the courage and desire up to do something more fulfilling with my life. With fearful, but bold determination I thought: It’s now or never.  Maybe it was not the wisest thing, but it felt so freeing to say to my boss, “I think I quit”, without another job to back me up. I basked in the encouraging applause of many co-workers who wished they had the guts to do the same, but soon the panic set in.

What do I do now? What can I do now?

Never working with children before, I felt a call to work with them, and I absolutely have a greater sense of purpose. Many of these children cannot talk. Many of them cannot walk. Many of them accept people just as they are, for I believe they want the same in return. Their lives teach me what really is important in life—and that is compassion.

Other than children, I also love the elderly, sensing their desperate need for love and compassion. Forcing myself to get my mind off my own troubles, I heeded my pastor’s call to not simply “go to church” but to “be the church”. I knew I had talents. I knew could open my mouth and carry a tune. From what I went through in my life, I knew I had the compassion. After all, I dealt with my dying father in a nursing home. With a nursing home ministry in my church, and a nursing home right across the street, it was obvious—there are others out there that need hope and they need love. So what was my excuse?

In this world that expects you to be stronger, better, tougher, faster or more successful, there are those that live in the world that they don’t fit any of these categories. But yet they are here. They exist. Can they be ignored? The answer is surely, yes, and they often are.  Perhaps, the world is uncomfortable with them, does not know what to do with them. They don’t fit into the false demands for perfection. They don’t fit into push and shove to get ahead of everyone else, but they remind us, sometimes to the point of discomfort, how fragile the human condition often is.  

Lately, I have had such a hunger that food cannot satisfy. I yearned for a peace, one that only God can provide me with. I found two uplifting stories on the internet of people who struggle on and whose lives defy the idea of a perfect world. One of them was about an Australian man, Nick Vujicic, who was born without arms and legs. He was picked on at school because he was perceived as a freak, as someone who did not seem to have any real chance at living a normal life. And he was angry that he did not look like, or function like, most everyone else. At about the age of eight he wanted to end it all, thinking he had no purpose in life. He eventually gave his life to Christ, and now lives a full life, reaching out to others with his incredible story of hope and perseverance.

Another woman, Joni Eareckson Tada, continues to amaze me. She is a quadriplegic from a diving accident gone horribly wrong. Her story touches many people with her hopeful attitude and her amazing faith in Christ. She, too, wanted to die when she thought her life had no more meaning. Recently, she has even fought breast cancer and chronic pain that has added to her decades of struggles with immobility.  She touches so many lives with her honesty about her suffering, giving people hope in times that seem hopeless.            

I wanted what these two people had. No, I did not want their afflictions, but I wanted to be able to reach out to others and touch their hearts, as well.  I wanted that faith, desperately, a faith that will not back down in the face of fear, in serious doubts, deep sadness, and pain. These people had little choice but to turn to God. The alternative was utter bleakness, a lack of purpose, and a slow death. But they defied the odds and etched a life out of faith, helping countless others to endure their struggles and to find meaning in life. There were plenty of times when I did not pray to reach out to a God that I gave my heart to many years ago. I bought into the belief that God was as inadequate and ineffective as I was feeling.    

Sometimes, we have to get into that place where all there is is God.

It is not that I did not believe in God. I did not think God believed in me.

Sometimes, we grow best in hard times.  

With plenty of tears, I cried out to God. It was a gut wrenching cry of someone with nothing to give but a broken heart. I wanted that kind of faith, and I meant that with every fiber of my being. Deep inside, my faith wasn’t gone. It never really left me, but only God had the ability to grow it, to prosper it, and to produce “life” back into my life. The battles might have felt overwhelming, at times, but I have always been a survivor. In spite of heartaches, and from what they actually teach me, I can be an encourager to others. Instead of just wanting to make everything go away, I can look forward to new chapters in my life.  

I know there will still be times when I will struggle to want to face another day, yet with my faith in God, I can.

So a rose growing outside may be not a big deal. Writers and poets have seemingly exhausted the topic, hailing it the most precious of flowers, the most perplex, with such lovely fragility, yet sheltered by stinging thorns. My inspiration to write on the same subject may not be unique, but as a rose blooms, and its glorious petals unfold, so does my story. I admit I hesitated to finish writing this, not sure I wanted to expose these things about my life. It takes a lot of guts to admit how imperfect you are in a world that seems to shun or poke fun at such things. But if I can encourage even one person, who has similar struggles, I will gladly try to be an encouragement.    

For almost a week now, existing in a stark contrast of its surroundings, that little rose remains, cold winter weather and all. Every day since, for about a week now, I continue look for it outside and find it going against the grain.  All the other flowers in my dormant garden are long gone. It will be gone eventually, but I am still enjoying my “God
Today, A new journey begins
Holding my pen in my hand
It bleeds for new adventures and stories
It searches for the best ones

An awful past was left behind
We must remember how to forget
Forget a percent of those 365 moments
Each day was peculiar in its own way

Peculiar ways to hurt that soul within
But you must be a great warrior
You should have your heart sealed
Because fragile is its second name

Today, your fragile heart will be a diamond
Shining like the first star at night
Winking at those who stare
And loving those who dare
Purcy Flaherty Jan 2018
Initially she began contacting me over the course of a year or so and increasingly over the last few months she started visiting me, helping me, caring for me and occasionally employing me in different ways.

She’d just had a break up a few weeks before, explaining that things hadn’t been right in the relationship for some time!

She presents herself as respectful, thoughtful, gentle, kind and considerate and after what seemed to be a very short length of time; unexpectedly declared that she had feelings for me; regarding love, admiration, desire and some other adventures.

She then began to bombarded me with love talk; occupying around 70% of my time gaining my trust, I was swept off my feet; she took a great deal of interest in me, learning everything about me, what I liked, where I would go, always asking what I was thinking feeling, how she could help and I was flattered and she was charming, though a little awkward at times.

As our friendship grew she started sharing her back story, including some tragic life experiences; she vilified her past lovers, and ex-partners and branded them as crazy, or bitter liars and troubled souls; slowly gaining my sympathy, whilst securing my allegiance, and keeping me on side; keeping me close; drawing on my compassion loyalty & trust!

During intimate moments she would sometimes seem a little awkward, false, over enthusiastic or a little insincere, and I made allowances for this given my knowledge of her backstory.
Re: (tragic events & experiences)

She began to choose and buy me clothes; outfits, take me shopping, gradually altering my outward image and appearance.

She introduced me to her friends; but was careful to keep me and them at arms-length, I realise (((Now))) that she was building an alternative profile of me in their minds and that the people she introduced to me rarely exhibited the behaviors or characteristic that I was led to expect.

She soon started to embroil me in her own rituals and compulsive behavior's, explaining that tasks needed to be performing in very specific ways to prevent her getting distressed!

She made many promises : ‘The hook’ It was my expectation i.e. waiting for some of those promises to materialise, that kept me hanging on the hook; As this increased her control and I think exited her too.
(Next to none of her promises came to fruition!)

She gradually had a hand in almost every aspect of my life i.e. my home, my work, my friends, family, my finances, the way I dressed, the food I ate and many other things besides, much of which I didn’t realise until our relationship was finally over. and I was left empty.
(In every way)

She often took immense pleasure in duping, individuals or companies out of something through theft, shoplifting, or getting something for nothing, a profiteer, a chancer!

To question or challenge her authority would result in seeing her facade slip and watch her decline into meltdown. It's at that point, she would lose composure, and I would see her irrationality come to the fore; revealing the real person underneath; childish, contrived and very fragile; It’s as if control is the glue that holds her together, without it she just falls apart, during this time she can’t be consoled and it’s impossible to calm this escalating situation; in fact; at this point that she would attempt to regain control by ‘gas-lighting’ me, she would distort the truth; re: who said what; in an attempt to damage my self-esteem, to make me question my own mind, my words, my intention and any actions, apportioning blame, pointing fingers, making me feel guilty, use rejection, or using hurt, sorrow, tears, shame and even threaten liable or legal action, and then use *** to pacify or regain control over me and my actions.

These episodes would appear often; though irregular and without provocation, I would always be deemed at fault!
I found silent compliance was less stressful than engaging in discussion.    

She never took responsibility or made any apologies for her conduct.

She would set me tasks, and go out a lot, and lie or bend the truth, as to where she had been; I never once challenged this behaviour!

When the relationship was finally deemed over; I was both devastated and relieved.

I began to see my new position in the cycle; as she immediately begin to vilify me in order to give credence to her new backstory, I felt very confused, disorientated and emotionally fraught, shell shocked! questioning, how much of our relationship was true and how much was a lie? For everything I thought I knew was now knitted together with a very complex web of loyalties, lies and half-truths.

Her pattern of repetitive and controlling behaviors have seemingly remained unchanging throughout all her relationships;
(I was covertly contacted by many of her previous partners and various other casualties since leaving her, and they offered shared many familiar experiences.

Within two weeks of being apart (ostracised) she informed me that she had fallen in love (And that my replacement) some-one she admires, someone kept just within the circle, a mutual acquaintance and she even thanked me for bringing them together.

My assumption is that: The grooming of her new lover will have commenced some time ago; her M.O. (Her pattern of behaviors, her techniques have remained fixed.)

She’s incredibly self-conscious, her biggest fear is that other people will find out about her true demeanour, as her image and appearance is everything to her. She's afraid that people will shun her for being so very, very different.
She is a wolf, that’s not to say she is a malevolent creature par-say; she is awesome, beautiful and beguiling in many ways, but you don’t want to be pray.

Full circle:
I too have joined the ranks of the discredited; labelled a liar, troubled, bitter and crazy; she contacted members of my, family, friends and some fellow musicians; and a few folks shared some of these conversations accusations with me.)
I suspect that she may even attempt to vilify me with authorities or threaten some form of legal action; as she has to other lovers in the past.

Despite everything I'm still drawn to her charismatic boldness, her awkward ****** power, her intelligence, and so…I have blocked all means of contact to curtail my own almost pathological interest, for despite everything that’s transpired, her lies, her infidelity, her deceit and appalling behaviour, I'm still drawn, intrigued, bewitched, beguiled by the person hiding underneath the façade.

Now the dust has finally settled; I’ve somehow remained sound of mind.

I don’t feel guilty or loyalty anymore; I’m aware that I’ve been manipulated into thinking and acting in ways that don’t truly represent my character; and that I’m just one of many people seduced by a sociopath; (((another natural human variant)) a person devoid of empathy for others, an entity that’s developed a narrow set of skills and mirroring behaviors, that allows her to blend into mainstream society in order to feel safe, secure and in control.

She would have preferred to keep me hanging on, like many other dependents, adding me to the hareem; a bank of beguiled individuals that she occasionally calls upon to perform simple tasks, or perhaps to monitor and re-assess her clever handwork.

The last time we met she opened with nervous politeness and finished with pleasure and veiled cruelty.
I left feeling drained, uncomfortable and quite fazed.

I’ve written this diary account to help further understand what had transpired during this complicated relationship.
(I’ve published it here with no names, because I think it’s worth understanding, it’s not a warning or a vengeful act.

In any case, Her next lover will ignore any pre-warnings as just bitter ramblings, as most individuals are driven by the natural pursuit of love, which consists of caring intellectual loyalty, *** and romance rather than following advice of some seemingly bitter ex. ( And rightfully so)

Good kind or exciting people further enhance the image and status of a sociopath and they will orbit your small shiny star, tapping into your  valuable energy before  slingshotting into a larger, more attractive orbit of a lager star.
Sadly love, *** and desire is simply a tool for manipulation and gain, it's all about prestige.

I wish her well, like every creature.

Expect high drama.
She loves to watch you come unstuck
jeffrey robin May 2015
( * )
/\


Fragile tiny child of a prayer

Curling up ( shivering ) in the dark

//

Within the twisted logic

Of a nation's disease

//

//

Even the lovers reek of greed

//

( Even the lovers ! )



My hour has come

//

Like a dog ( to be " put down " )

like pages from old newspapers

Blowing into the **** stink of alleyways

With all the other dead dreams

//

Gentle breath

Coughing up the poisons from lifeless air

Walking thru the haze of the political despair

The dying masses

(The extermination so well on its way )

//

Fragile

( I am )

Yet

( In my own begotten way )

Still here

//

The fragile child and I

In the fragile morning come

//

I hear the universal whisper in my head

THANKS PAL

is what it says

//

I hold the child by the hand

& say

//

THANKS TO YOU    TOO

FATHER OF MAN
BladeRunner Aug 2017
would I be depressed
if you were always by my side?
I know you are
there for me
but I need you to squeeze my arm
so I know that you are real
that I am
that everything is okay
but I know I can't really
depend my sanity
on another fragile being
together we are stronger
but what if we are
not
together
M Salinger Jul 2018
Be kind to yourself,
as you are with others

You have these
grand expectations
of yourself
and at times,
those around you

It's good to have goals
and a hunger for
betterment,
but you must also be
vigilant
to keep them realistic

Because, while you are indeed
fierce & strong-willed,
you are also soft
& at times
fragile

You are human.

But that doesn't mean
you are without
superpowers

Your sensitivity is your greatest gift,
but without care,
can also be your greatest
downfall

You must learn to master your craft.

This means to be
patient with yourself
as you would with others,
to show compassion
as you would with others,
to show love,
grace,
& humility,
to yourself

This in practice,
is to truly understand,
& epitomise,
that self-care
is not
selfish

That it is okay to say no,
or to ask for help,
or to be truly
vulnerable

To acknowledge
that fear is
the root cause
of bitterness
& resentment

To embrace the lows,
for making the highs even
sweeter

To let the good wash
over you
the same as
the bad,
& embrace the micro changes,
as the meta
stays the same

To believe you are worthy,
of a great love,
the same as you believe
another's
worthy of
yours

To embody the idiom
that one can
only
truly love another,
after
they learn to love
themself,
& thus allowing
the hard-earned
victory
of grounded, stable
communion

To know the difference between
support
& advice,
love
& lust,
friendships
& partnerships

To have
faith
that you will find your way,
because you will;
because you live your life
with generosity
& authenticity

This is my vision for you,
that you will
make this your reality.
Michael Amery Jul 2014
The human heart is very fragile indeed.
Yes it is capable of holding and exuding such fiery passions as to consume you whole,
Yet can it not be crushed underfoot with a wayward blow meant to push away rather than injure or the sweet kiss of fare thee well from the object of your eternal desire?

Love is not the monster that hides beneath your bed, rather under your sheets where you wistfully dream of your prince, your knight, the girl next door or the **** *******.

Love is the creature that hunts for your immortal soul not by night but rather captures and enraptures you in the brightness of day with a single smile and words that only you amongst the billions in this world were meant to hear.

Love is not the answer, it is the question in the truest sense which poets, songwriters and the daft have spent eternity trying to unravel, it is a puzzle without end for the missing pieces lie within us all and can only be found in another.

And the creator in all his glory housed such a curse as a gift within the most fragile of vessels yet we stand shocked witness each time our hearts break.
I would not have it any other way.
zebra Apr 2017
i always imagine you so very graceful
through the masochists ordeal
a god form of supplication

seeing your face
in love
fascinated by shimmering kisses
that hurt, yet please
wet lips and sharp teeth  
glamors that excite

cold blade licks dragged across
tender bellies
naval
buttocks
and flexed toes
stinging
then radiating outwards

wounds become lilies
mouth *******
tremulous weeping kisses
ecstatic cruelties
blood glitter sacrifice

your supplication
love pangs

i'm shaking apart over you
your countenance
a cascading dream
moved to tears of adoration
your  limitless
yielding
like surrenders caress
an infinite communion
with fragile limbs
silky wrapped spools
innerness of desire veiled in a shroud
a faltering star that glistens crimson
nymph of purgation
ash volcanic
cells en-flamed with tongues that bite
subsumed in scented vapors
a confection of **** and ***
waves embrace ineffable shores
passed the discontinuity of life  

I have the most immense feeling of love for you
am i not
the saint death  
quietly following you
through life's labyrinth
innocuous  
waiting humbly in the wings

i am all ache for you
a vice of kisses
a brief encounter
that eats your sight and senses
ushering you to immortal freedom
a swooning garland of fire that enlivens
the body electric
a mist of molecules

your tears intoxicate
i am new life with in you
budding embryo
that consumes its mother for nourishment
and saturates like dew drops  
as it echoes through oblivion
My poems remain explorations of the subconscious ******
If i where a film maker or a novelist  you  would see me telling a story, and yes  i admit to my paraphilias.
These poems  are lunar anamorphic streams of consciousness from the deep chaotic subterranean glitz of transgressive  impulses we all share
Read them if you dare...You might find that part of yourself that you don't want you to know about and then again  you may feel more complete some how if you do....I always loved that dark thing that sleeps with in me
Mike Hauser Apr 2019
fragile heart...
battered, bruised, and broken
you've done your best to hold on
to who you wish you were

fragile heart...
love can be so fleeting
you took a brutal beating
when you tried to play the part

fragile heart...
excuses in the making
to overcome the aching
where X marks the spot

fragile heart...
daily in the dealing
with this constant empty feeling
hidden in the dark

fragile heart...
barely holding on
empty and alone
never really sure, who you wish you were
Shadow Knight Apr 2015
Stone
Crumbles.
Wood Rots.
People, Well
They Die.

But Things
As Fragile As

A Thought

A Dream

A Legend

They Can Go
On And On


- Chuck Palahnuik
I do not own this.
Stormy Bailey May 2015
Careful.
I’m fragile.
A heart made of glass.
Reflecting light throughout myself with each passing glance.
Shimmering,
A diamond.
But not as strong as I seem.
If I cut through glass does that mean I cut through myself?
Ruby seeps from my slippers staining the floor.
There is no place like a dream.
Opalescent,
but empty.
Carved from hopeless tears that dropped and froze.
Sharp edges melt if you hold them close enough.
And fill up the open space if you chase away the cold.
Crystal,
A gem.
Galaxies swirl and spin as you play with my emotions.
A vortex of sweltering heat turning
glass,
a diamond,
an opalescent crystal,
Into a compliant putty in your hands,
Soft and yielding after your warmth shattered the frost encasing it.
Careful,
I’m fragile.
Though even if I am engulfed by flames.
I can't promise I won't covet the burn.
So what?

She'd rather not dance the night away?

You're asking for less time than it took for the last guy to run away with her faith

So give her some space

Let love find it's own way

take that energy and find someone who will handle with care

Cause you're fragile too

This whole relationship isn't your average pack up job, you can't put fragile with fragile and just shut the box

Call me what you will, but I don't care for superficial friendships with people who want way too much more

So take what you will, because she wants to want you this isn't something you can conjure from thin air

Trust me if there was a potion she would drink it

She want's to want you, and when it comes to this It's seriously 50-50 on who hurts the most don't pretend it isn't

So realize what you're doing and curb your frustration

She's having the same sensation

So next time you want to play pity me and say you lost an opportunity

Think about what you're saying

She's lost something far worse

Think of what you could be for her if you stayed as less than you thought you paid for

Isn't that the kind of person YOU would fall in love with?
Poetry At Most Jun 2017
She
She was not fragile like a flower;
She was fragile like a bomb.

— The End —