Who am I?
Who am I?
A rebel? A hero?
A monster with blood and bones?
Not one of these things.
A little lion girl, maimed and alone.
A coward, needy and ashamed,
A girl trapped in darkness, begging for a light,
But all she could manage were stumbles through the night.

In the midst of it all, the struggle and fall, I felt my legs give out,
Weak and worn out, I lay in the pit.
For what shall I fight for? This hell? This ****?
Many gathered around and yelled 'you can't quit',
They rattled but could not touch, could not help, for they too are sick.

I heard a gentler voice in the crowd, and I wanted to answer,
But dropped my head in the mud,
With every effort, the pain just grows tenser.

In my heart,  I asked "Who are You?", "Where have You been?" I spat.
Still, You called my name, and cleared the brush and pitfalls so I could get up and walk back,
But I was trapped in a pit,  I was ashamed, without a thought, I sent You away,

Still, You came closer and knelt down to my level so that we were face to face,
"What are You doing?" I bitterly noted, when I saw that You reached for me,
I then swatted your hand and said, "No one tends to these scars, it's too much of a demand".
But you replied; "Not for me, I heal every wound with My love and My own right hand."
So I just sighed and gave into His embrace, what did I have to lose?

With Your hands on my back You picked me up,
You took my feet and set them on a rock,
You breathed into my heart and for the first time, I felt life,
You touched my eyes with your finger, and I saw heaven on earth,
You whispered to my mind, "You can trust Me, Holly.  I am the way the truth and the light"

And in that very moment I knew, I was reborn with the Son,
I walked to the mirror and saw a new reflection, a brave face with purpose,
A lioness who may inherent all of His kingdom under the sun,

And so, this is the end of a testimony, I run down a new road now,
With my hand in God's hand and a smile on my face remembering His first embrace,
Wherever I travel, even in the valley of the shadow of death, I keep a hand stretched out and a heart of trust,
Because My Lord never fails, and already He has conquered all things for us.

And now You're here,
My heart is at rest,
You crushed  my fears.
My life is blessed.
I found the savior,
Praise Jesus Christ.

I will serve you, great God,
For the rest of my days.
For what life can become,
Living for Amazing Grace!

Till kingdom come,
Till kingdom come,
Glory in the highest,
I lift up all praise,
I will love You forever,
My Lord and His Son.

the phone rings,
**** its already late
I dress up past, I grab my things
rushing out through the gate

it was a grey rainy day,
the shoe lace was untied.
stepping on the puddles through the alleyway
I smelt the leftovers cornered to be putrefied
in the distance i heard the foghorn bray
and then suddenly the ipod died,
it wasn't the slightest idea of my heyday
and so it made me stupefied.

the alley never seem to end.
for once I was hoping for a commotion.
and then it made a slight bend
and a shadow appeared at the cross section.
everything got a trascend blend
looked like life moved ahead in a slow motion.

the figure was human like
and with each tick it moved slowly-closer.
my body was abruptly covered with spike,
as the motion became tenser.
the cold hit me like a pike,
yet my mind said he was just a bypasser.

I knew I shouldn't have been there.
I stared the figure drenched in the rain.
all I wanted to do now was run anywhere
before it blew away my brain.

before I could make my escape
he cought me by my arm.

his eyes were cold and senseless
but his hands felt delicate.
for a seond life became aimless
as I became his captivate.
his charm was flawless
his beauty was the least I could appreciate.

he suddenly let go of me
I stared into his eyes and realized I must leave
I turned around and made my move away......




TO BE CONTINUED...

Dear 2020,


   “I know that this is going to be the last letter. Things have gotten worse, so much worse, and I know that I will disappear like I was never there. I never affected anyone much, really, I just got in the way, and caused people shame. I’ve caused myself shame. I’ve done all the wrong things, and I know that now I am a burden on my family. They have all gotten tenser since I was diagnosed. They have gotten angrier, now they fight more than they ever used to. I am such a burden on them. They don’t need me, all I do is disappear into my room and try to pray for God to **** me in my sleep or something, which obviously isn’t working. I’ve brought everyone's mood down. I’m sorry if I had seemed promising before, I will have never had much of a life at this rate and I know Sean can be”

   I don’t know what else to say. I believe in it all, except for the part about this being the last letter, but if I had written to you last night like I was going to then this is probably what I would have said. I instead used a crisis text line, which helped… for a while.
   I don’t like coming home anymore. I don’t think Connor, and the rest of them could understand, when it’s not abuse or anything, it’s just so unhappy here. Everything is tense, and it doesn’t feel like a home anymore. I am yelled at so much, and cut so little slack.
   I am eating again… way too much. And I’ve… found another razor head. After all that digging in my bathroom, I knew I would. But if I’ll use it… Oh, I know I probably will. Having my body hurt takes my mind off of my heart, which is why I also like P.E. Even know, with my hand wrapped up, I earn so much sympathy at school when Connor is really the only one who knows what really happened to it. Well, Connor, my parents, and you.
   I really don’t think my parents love me anymore. They had loved a tomboy, with long hair, extroverted, with skills at writing and drawing and who didn’t care whether people hated her or loved her. I am feminine, with a boy’s haircut that I don’t like to brush, introverted, with anorexic tendencies and no passion or skills at anything at all. And yet somehow my broken, hurting self-attracts people. Overall of my years in elementary school, three people had confessed their feelings for me. In this year alone, it has been five. What hurts is knowing that even those who I do like back I could never be a worthy partner for. The chance of my dying, lashing out at them, or simply deciding to ignore them as an isolationist technique to be happy is much too high, which is why only two of them like me now.
   I’m so tired. All the time. Even when I take naps (for instance today I fell asleep at Walmart) I am still extremely tired. I think I am just tired of being here. I want to go home. I say this a lot to myself, although I don’t really know where I mean by home. I think I mean this third dimension, one I’ve thought up myself. It’s the place I go when I sleep, or when I’ in my room by myself for a long time doing nothing. Sometimes when I say I want to go home I mean that I want to die, so that I could live in that third dimension forever. I would really like that.
   It’s called the third dimension because if my actual house is the first dimension, and school is the second, then that is the third. The rest of my world (Walmart, the castle, etc.) is just surrounding fabric of the first (and largest) dimension. But when I don’t want to be either at home or school, I want to go to the third dimension. Which is like death, and can be rarely mimicked from one of the other dimension. And even if I am homeschooled next year, I will not be able to escape the first dimension. So I need, and want, the third.


That is all I have to say, really, except that I am thinking of posting these letters on my Hello Poetry page, since I will never read them in 2020, and perhaps someone will find that I am relatable. Or stupid.


Love always,


Hollin

i remember going back to the now bleared moment, where it burgeons in
its ruinous hands. they demolished the hearth long ago and the dearth only fills
the air together with the splinters of what
was once yours — the wind is much tenser there, and there too is the bleak behemoth-shadow cast by the towering bell of the cathedral juxtaposed to the many a pompous mango tree enshrouding it like parasols to young, tender loam.
we were akin  to those moments of death,
lauded by the assuage of its avid fondness — when it has died, we can hardly tell that it were stripped out of life
and when it continued to live, we denied it
inside us that it was no more than an ephemera enjoyed. rain obscured the
dry land seeking till, and sooner than we
knew,
        the leaves have abandoned the trees
and we were underneath a shade of
       our own.

As I press on the fog is thicker,
I can't see as it's getting denser.
Where I will end up i don't know,
but I'm starting to feel tenser.

As the mist settles down and I can see,
I just can't help but wonder if I'm free.
That's all I've ever wanted,
But all I get is to be haunted.

I'm getting scared for what might take place,
As I'm trapped in this tiny hellish space.
I want to venture and find a new life,
So I can be set free from all this strife.

The clouds form into a storm,
Like the way everything takes a new form.
It's very ominous in this sky,
You could even say one could cry.

The thunder strikes and let's a loud roar,
But what is the strike really meant for?
The thunder is loud and makes it hard to hear,
And you'll wonder what you're doing here.

In the end after all the damage is done,
You start to think that storm has just won.
The storm has laid heavy burdens inside,
And you wonder if you may have died.

You know you need a new beginning,
But you never wanted such a terrible ending.
Why did all of this have to go on,
Maybe it was to make you be gone.

It may not ever be fair,
But what should be will never be there.
Who will make sure you're alright,
And make sure you don't take you're final flight?

You want to go and see that great Man,
But you wonder if you ever can.
But that is quite alright,
So don't worry about you're plight.

A second chance may await you very soon,
And you'll always be looking at the same moon.
As bad as it had seemed to be,
The storm really had set you free.

Say goodbye to this cruel place,
For maybe you'll beat it in the end of the race.
Don't turn around just keep going on,
Because one day it might just be gone.

Until the next time this is your last farewell,
Say goodbye as you leave this hell.

She blushed
she went beetroot red.
his breath quickened pace
he too went red in the face
Their hands shook
He had another look
He went red a little more
Her eyes were glued to the floor.
She was tenser than tense
to him things did not make sense.
What was wrong, does anyone know?
Is Cupid short of one arrow? if so
it has most probably got lost above
in the little land they call love.

So often my love is shallow or fake
Unwilling to do what I know it takes
I am too wrapped up in my self-love
Self-interest and self-pity
To see that my vision is itty-bitty
I miss the sunset staring at the ground
Tenser than a spring I'm so tightly wound
In the war between the spirit and flesh
Caught in the middle, I'm a hot mess
So easy to say I love you
But so difficult to really prove
You love me without condition
And you send me out on mission
Jesus; source of love in pure perfection
In your love help me be a reflection
Imperfect as I may be shine through me today
Grant me grace to turn back to you
And the discipline to obey

For freedom is found in following
The law of the Lord is the light of love.
Perfect peace and power passes over
When we watch with awe and wonder
What happens when, in our need, we kneel.
Sorrow and sadness in the savior's shadow
Are arrested in authentic love's atoning act,
Shed for sinners in the ultimate sacrifice.
Body and blood broken and beautiful
We are given the gift of God's great grace.
Recall the wretched reign, be reborn renewed
For Christ has come to call his child.

And just like starlight,
it takes billions of years.
It shimmers, it fades.

Cosmic suffering,
rattling of constellations.
New shapes in the sky.

Small in their own lives,
but creating new cultures
in ******* for us.

Volumes of white lies,
tenser deafening quiet,
and bright like a star.

Built as mountains are,
dense as the passing of time;
gone when morning comes.

The Met Office is where
past tenser's went when
they were late for a date
due to inclement weather.

So often, my love is shallow or fake
Unwilling to do what I know it takes
I am too wrapped up in my self-love
Self-interest and self-pity
To see that my vision is itty-bitty
I miss the sunset staring at the ground
Tenser than a spring, I'm so tightly wound
In the war between the spirit and the flesh
Caught in the middle, I'm a hot mess
So easy to say I love you
But so difficult to really prove
You love me without condition
And you send me out on a mission
Jesus; source of love in pure perfection
In your love help me be a reflection
Imperfect as I may be, shine through me today
Grant me the grace to turn back to you
And the discipline to obey

For freedom is found in following
The law of the Lord is the light of love.
Perfect peace and power pass over
When we watch with awe and wonder
What happens when, in our need, we kneel.
Sorrow and sadness in the savior's shadow
Are arrested in authentic love's atoning act,
Shed for sinners in the ultimate sacrifice.
Body and blood broken and beautiful
We are given the gift of God's great grace.
Recall the wretched reign, be reborn; renewed
For Christ has come to call his child.