I am me
I am she
I am the forest, the forest in meFinding the pieces and wanting to build againDo I build me? Do I build them?Who am I and where have I beenI've come to tell the story; the one from withinSeeking oh seeker. These wood are gone This story, the fawn. A glass seen through mourn.Where have you gone, return to us now! You cant have meEyes wide open; sing for my soulI rise from these woods, I seek from these shadows.Grazing sounds against metal throngsThe time is coming, who will you beI don't know, I DON'T KNOW!Find your story, the rise and seekStrums along this lake I seek, the virtue of life. My vengeance i/s meek. Find me in the sounds of the tales over head. I shall rise. I am here. The story is meISeeYouBurn.
Even if you don't feel it, try itStories written, stories found, the match ~ its set Letters converge and characters write~ beyond the threshold, they guide the lightAdventurer moving, explorer in sightLets push the dark away~*Ignitethelight*~
star believersThey landed on the walk of many stones, fully open to the interstellar system which had grown between them. continuous rhythm of life. A night’s gaze facing the evening bliss. The bringers of light, compelled to create. stare . dare to dream
Hearth The cadence of an uncontrollable fire calls me I can hear you, from echoes of a night long gone echoes of a night long here Fleeting footsteps upon fog listed trailsThe ivory seating, a song of believingMy story, might ~ a break upon the night BREAKShake the skys, let the earth tremble in our mightFleeting, flewing ~ earth ever movingThe Rumbling, the soaring SCREEAAAAMMMYELL Rage Duality Spit Fire NO! &
Hide and SeekCobwebs to A Cherry groveSinging of sorrows from deep below, a rumbling of sing song and water's lights glowTouching of light and the soothing sounds of might; the love of the break comes at morning's nightDarkness consumes the reverberations of the singing birdSearching and crawling, lost soul among feeling, the sorrowsEchoes of the signs left for us,A song of fright Sound where there is no sound. Breath where there is no fightWe are alone Was I always lost?fight me as I lay and fight me as I fray, tears of the forlorn Wailing into the night of forgotten sails This trail leads forever Sorrow's song lead meDrifting above, the world in silence Strumming cords of the <
Breathe of FireAmong the battered blades of grass, she laid dying. Gripping tightly, she began to rise . . . Defiance in her eyes . . .
Little GirlThere sits the girl with the things in her eyesMonsters, destruction, and sweet butterfliesHopscotch and daisies, surrounded by screamsBeautiful dresses now torn at the seamsCrayons and paintbrushes, villains and grinsYoung, gladsome innocence, hatred and sinsLittle red houses on roads left to fadeGorgeous moonlight shining off of the bladeBlood pouring out as she cries her own nameKnowing she's forced to take each bit of blameShe could have stopped it and left it behindAll of these things in her troubled young mindShe could have saved them if she dared to tryRather, though, she left herself there to die.Now, others watch as she sits on the groundKeeping their distance and letting her drownIn her own worries and things she won't tellWaiting for her mind to kill her as well.
stardust. (you're beautiful)he'sout of orbit -interstellar spacedust in hisveins rise andfall witheach word thatdrips and poolsbeneath hishoneyed tongue;silenceis betweenhis knuckle-bones,sharp anddefined like theribcage of ababy bird, hismazarine eyeswere not made forthis earth butfor the stars.andsome days hefades in andout of reality likehe never reallywanted to be thereat all.on those daysi just thinkmy god, you really don'trealise how amazing you are.
your poemyou tell me on a thursday that you can’t findthe god inside of yourself anymore, thatyou think that you are finallytoo much honeycomb and not enough humanbecause lately everything has been slippingthrough your fingers, and you don’t know how you cankeep holding yourself together anymore.if today is the day that you lookat the stars and you no longerfeel their burn beneath your bones,i will show you the blanket i tried to makewhen i was eight, and i will tell you all i knowabout the string theory, which isn’t much, i admit,but i do know the basics,and that’s that everything in the universeis composed of strings that somehowloop onto each other infinitely.so whenever you feel like you’rewalking a tightrope without a safetynet below you, know that you arethousands of tightropes strung together,and one fall will not kill you.i have never told you about the wayi can feel my pulse skitter to a stopin my wrists whenever i hear you laughing
Depression Isn't RealDepression isn’t true, my dearDepression isn’t real.It’s just a silly tragedyYou’ve forced yourself to feel.Anxiety is fake, my friendYou wonder why it’s there.But others have it worse than you!Stop forming false despair.Cutting is dramatic, love,It’s ugly, and it’s dumb.Why not just get over it?Is the attention fun?Suicide is stupid, dear,And selfish, if I may.Get over yourself, darling,Can you hear these things I say?Why aren’t you replying, love?Oh, where could you have gone?I never meant to hurt you, love,Did I say something wrong?Why aren’t you replying, dear?Depression isn’t true!…Oh, but yes it was, “my dear”...Just maybe not for you.
it's okay to not be okaysometimes it’s okayto sit on the floor of the bathroom stalland let your feelings gather- it’s okayto let them pool like a lachrymose lagoonas the inside of your stomach does summersaults;I know these emotions can’t be tenderly released,they’re not soft waves kissing the expecting shore,let them pour out of you like tidal waves-release the tsunami from within you and I know sometimes the tears will sodden your pillowcase,they’ll be juggernauts- those brackish beadscathartically-cartwheeling down your flushed cheeks;but remember how even the cloudsmay cry tempestuously today,only to make roomfor much brighter daysso I promise you, darling it’s going to be okay.
For My PeopleAs far as I can recall:I did not ask to be birthedInto a cycle of stagnation.I did not ask to be told,That my dreams are achievable;Only to see them limited by the scope of reality.I did not ask for a failing system,Passed unto me by half-dead corpses wearing suits.Nodding eagerly at one another,As they wait for an inevitable death.This I did not ask for,And I am certain that most of you did not either.But it is for that reason,And for that reason alone, I say:That it is up to us,We siblings bound by the chains of our forefathers,To create a system that is better,Than the bitter shackles of the past.Justice is what I long for.Justice for MY people.
An Angel's Promise'Thou art mine,And so thou shall remain.'I will not let you have any other before me, Nor can there be any after.For it is your soul that I have shared And it is your soul that I do take.Your worship is the blood that flows through me.Your praise is the heart that pumps life into my veins.I have accepted that which is torn;And if you are not whole before me,Then by my will and word,You shall be made whole.So fear not this frigid world,Though its cold bites deeply into your flesh.I shall take that which has been torn from youAnd weep life into it,Until only warmth remains.For thou art already mine,And so thou shall remain.
You Never Really Were ThereYou're right here, I know it.I can hear your voice,I can see your eyes,I can smell your scent,I can feel my heartbeatSpeeding as you approach.But when I reach out my handTo try and touch your face,You just vanish in the air,Remembering me thatYou never really were there.
melismai have heard that every womanis either ophelia or the queen,either too much or not enough,either drowning or swimming, eitherdying from grief of living with guilt.but i have run past enough finishlines in my life to know that sometimesyou give up and sometimes you keepgoing until your legs hurt and yourlungs bleed. what i mean is that i used to forgetthat there once wasa version of me that did notknow the twelve shades of blue inyour eyes or what words to useto describe them.what i mean is that i still catch myselfthinking about that time i sawyou singing in your kitchen with yourhair down, dancing around to the radioin a shirt i thought i had lost months ago.what i mean is that i’ve startedignoring you in the hallwaysbecause it’s less painful than lookingat you and not knowing whatto say—our problem was always that wehad too much water, too many novelswritten in the backs of our mouths,too many bones for our skin, too manyhands cla
The Edge of Truth/Fear Its time Its time to give voices to all who believedThe time of reflections has come ~ face your value Who are you, space in time ensuesWe were rightalla . . l o . . . n . . <i>