HI!!!

You are loved still

Years and years are passing by Older days look more sweet Underneath a spotlight, you feel so empty.

A day barely passes without tears like Rivers streaming down your face Everything's a little duller, you're not doing okay.

Living feels like a burden, you cry writing goodbyes Older days were easier, no 'I'm fine' lies Very few saw through your mask Everyone ignored your scars Don't die today please, don't be ruled by your past.

Stay and see the sun waking for a new day Till you're breathing a little easier I believe you'll get through this Live to see the light- live for the ones who Love you, and don't want to say goodbye.

The Thimble of an Elf

I wear a thimble to protect me from blows I can't see the enemy, But I got to fight anyway I suppose.

My thimble's a bit battered Worn down by old wounds I might need to get a new one Till then this will do.

My kingdom depends on me I guess so, Haven't heard from them in many moons.

I fight, waving about a needle I feel the enemy's presence They wonder why I haven't given up hope.

I cut down through a couple of bushes And there are the foes standing tall They don't look all that scary Just a bit tired, that's all.

I recognize them I think I've heard their voices before I take off my thimble Strangely soothed by their song.

They say they're my demons Trying to help me find a better end I believe them For they are my only friends.

They accept me, make me feel safe, So much so, without my thimble I still feel brave.

I don't think I'll go back to the kingdom For the foes are now my friends No matter what someone says I'll stay with them till the end.

Chill bird.

10 posts! YIPEEE LES GOOO! :D

The Little Bead

We lie in our class, Not really intrigued or puzzled, By the mundane subjects that keep us muddled. Some may admire the beauty that surrounds us; Of the trees swaying in the winds, Of the cherry blossoms that drop, In the never-failing cold wind. The light which comes through our open doors, The light, not brighter than the people we have in store.

We all are specimens alike, But, behind our mask of mischief lies, A little drop or maybe a bead, Filled with sincerity and virtue so sweet. The little drop that burns and shines, In all our hearts it lies.

We are not mindless wanderers, We are not without destination; Some folks can’t understand, The intensity of our situation.

We have a goal, An aim to be great, But some of us haven’t uncovered our little drop, The drop that can seal our fate.

The teachers say we’re a nuisance, How we trouble their conscience; But how they will miss us, Miss our shenanigans; How we will miss each other when we leave, To the calling of our little bead.

A Napkin

I feel like I'm a blank canvas, a sheet of paper, the napkin you use to clean up spilled coffee. A blank slate, to be filled with wondrous images, colours and blends. An artist sits down, struck with a thought, and precedes to sketch, doodle or create a new masterpiece. After they're done drawing on the napkin that is me, no one carries me back home. They throw me in the bin. It doesn't matter how great the art is, for the canvas is a napkin and must be thrown away. Forever forgotten. Forever lost. And the cycle repeats. Artist creates art and throws the napkin away. Everyone sees the art, but no one sees the canvas. The canvas is forgotten. Disposable.  The canvas is the real picture that everyone refuses to see.

Whispers

It started as a whisper,

Then grew louder and louder,

I remember that whisper,

I don't want to remember her.

I can't tell if it's in my head,

Or she's somewhere near,

It's going away now,

I think she saw my tears.

It took me long enough to recover,

To not cry to myself at night,

To deal with the fact I didn't say goodbye.

🌱🌵🌲

👖👖👖

Plants with pants

Sounds awesome tbh😁🌿👖

Blood on my hands

Her blood is on my hands I don't remember what happened last night All I see is a foggy glow All I hear is a shriek.

Her blood is on my hands I feel a weight on my chest My eyes are flooding I can't stop crying

A stone cold wall is against my back I can see my writings on the walls I see blood on my hands Even if it's not there at all.

I feel so confused and crazed And I'm running into walls So the blood that's on my hands Isn't yours.

I can't hear you Everything's fuzzy I see in black I see in blue On my hands a scarlet hue.

I finally wake from my bed Sweating through my clothes I can't see you I can't see you lying there But there's still blood on my hands Then I see the bruises on my hands

Then I realize With tears in my eyes And a pain in my head That it's all mine.

⚠️ heads-up!

Hilo, this poem's a bit darker than my usual ones -it's a fictional/poetic expression of trauma. So, if it feels too much, pls stop reading and do something silly, like pretend you're a chicken 🐔 💛

Onwards on the Race of Life

My heart flutters when you’re near, Onward on the race of life; No one knows if you’ll be mine.

Another year passes by, Morning to dusk every time, Onward on the race of life, Umbrella of yours, hiding us from the, Rain of time.

Seas could not match my blue, but Arisen by you in me, your Ruby hues, Thank you for saying that you admired me, Hopefully that lasted and you haven’t forgotten me; An abyss in which I lie, Kindle a fire, so we shall not freeze in the darkness of the night.

I imagine a life with you, then without,

Lest, I lose you or you go on a different route, Onward on the race of life; Velvet you lips are, and your soul an, Esther in my eyes.

You looked at me that day, in your eyes a feeling I could not place; Onward on the race of life; Umbrella in your hand and in your other, mine.