Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Rogue Jan 2018
I have built a body out of words
like how a melody needs a body to resound
from the ends of your hair
to the tips of your toes as you spin around
like a ballerina trapped in an old music box
swriling in a harmony of its existence,
engulfed into notes as if breath of life,
that made her alive
and live

I have made life out of poetry
for there are so much words to lay into stacks of paper
for there are so much rhymes to fit into one's ears
for there are so much things that I wanna hear
for myself
to fill me

Until I realized words are also used on things other than filling emptiness.
If not for the words, I bet every writer is empty. :)
Richard Frank Dec 2018
Winter's about to end, snow fading
Leisure days melting
New Year will mark the calendar
As I walk to the park one last time
Before school will come to an end and arrive
I pondered about myself
In my deep instropection, shining light disrupts

It was a shooting star streaking throught the velvety sky

Behold! The sight of milky way so elegant

Swriling in space, spiraling spiraling

The moment is fleeting

Moment I'm living
It was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen!
No! Second most beautiful thing
For the most beautiful thing in the universe that  I saw that night,

Was her smile
I know nobody's gonna read this. Well it ***** anyway.
Ayesha Jul 2020
I don't remember coming in
my cotton armor melts in the corner
I sit, my arms devouring my bent legs.
my knees embracing my cheeks
I stare, drop after drop running over the tiles
I think of bullets, invincibly unstoppable.
I feel, splash after splash stab my back
I think of bombs, hopelessly inescapable.
But it doesn't matter what I think.

My lashes meet the floor of my eyes,
weighted down by the battle in my skull.
Wish I could say I see dark but I only see a void;
colourless, lifeless clouds over a barren soil-
a few glimpses of my energetic blood vessels.
My shaking fingers curl under my palms,
skin imblankets my jagged nails
I imagine my back splitting asunder,
the blushing water vanishing down the drain
I imagine the cage of my ribs tearing up
with the strain of my sqeezing lungs-
heart leaping out, swriling and whirling with the streams
spiriling down a tight eternal abyss-

I don't remember giving in.
my light dreams wash away with the dandelions
I sit, my naked shivering, trembling body
under a thousand layers of clothes
I stare, day after day running away
I think of incinerating masses of uncountable bodies
I feel, thought after thought piling up
I think of graves feeding in on bygone beings.
But it doesn't matter what I think.

My skin gets clumsy and tired,
The bullets get cold and slow, giving in
Wish I could say I get up, dress up & walk out
this prizon shell that I now call my home-
holding me in, it reads my brain, suffocates my lungs
like a vulture it guards the small of my self.
I sit, I stare at my closed lids, I hear the water
the breathing of something alive and still.
I bolt all my muscles shut, tie up my nerves
-Not a hair dares stir, not a vein speaks
not a tear makes out alive, not a whimper lives.

I don't remember going out,
a part of me turns off the shower,
soaks up the towel, puts on a skin
and walks out the door, breathing.

I part of me never does.

— The End —