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Literature Text
don't.
stay away from
pencils and pens.
don't look
at keyboards
or at blank pages
of notebook paper.
don't submit
to the emerald sigh of
vellichor,
the shredded sheets
of everything,
everything you've worked
your whole life to run away from.
don't live in the moment.
let love and fear float by,
just a skimming whisper,
because a whisper
is better than nothing.
a whisper is better
than the brittle falling-apart
of kairosclerosis.
suffer from catoptric tristesse,
but don't think about it
(for too long, anyways.)
look at the mirror
but never look yourself
in the eye,
because who knows what you've become?
don't write what you're feeling.
you don't even know what you're feeling.
leave the pencil alone,
because the pencil will not submit
to the slow,
careful splintering
of your life.
stay away from
pencils and pens.
don't look
at keyboards
or at blank pages
of notebook paper.
don't submit
to the emerald sigh of
vellichor,
the shredded sheets
of everything,
everything you've worked
your whole life to run away from.
don't live in the moment.
let love and fear float by,
just a skimming whisper,
because a whisper
is better than nothing.
a whisper is better
than the brittle falling-apart
of kairosclerosis.
suffer from catoptric tristesse,
but don't think about it
(for too long, anyways.)
look at the mirror
but never look yourself
in the eye,
because who knows what you've become?
don't write what you're feeling.
you don't even know what you're feeling.
leave the pencil alone,
because the pencil will not submit
to the slow,
careful splintering
of your life.
Literature
The Girl Who Was Afraid To Be
She speaks to me fondly
of passions and talents,
of guitars and stars,
with such breathless intensity
then stops short and
apologises
for speaking at all.
All because somewhere in her life,
someone she loved broke her heart
by ignoring
her beautiful words
and telling her to
shut up,
keep it down,
nobody cares.
People aren’t born sad.
We make them that way.
Literature
I Am
I am single,
but I am loved.
I am not a genius,
but I am intelligent.
I am not breathtaking,
but I have beauty.
I am not a saint,
but I am kind.
To the world,
I am not perfect.
But for someone,
I am.
Literature
Awareness.
She writes such lovely poems
But nobody really cares
She hides them all the time
To avoid the judging stares
She wrote one yesterday
About a boy who said he loved her
But to her own dismay
She caught him with another
She wrote one about school
And the words painted on her locker
“No one likes you, stupid bitch.
You’re lucky I’m at soccer.”
She wrote about her parents
And how she wished they were together
But she knows that won’t ever happen
And forgetting’s probably better
Yes, she writes such lovely poems
But there’s so much more to this
See, her pencil is a razor
And the paper is her wrist.
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wow, it's been a while since i've posted anything. i feel inactive. anyways, most of the inspiration for this poem comes from www.dictionaryofobscuresorrows…. it's suuuuch a good website wow i am in love i think.
i'm kinda jumping on the bandwagon, huh? i'm sorry for not posting a lot recently. i procastinate a lot.
i actually menat for this poem to be spaced kind of awkwardly, so it'd be uneven, and 'splintering'. i dunno, does that even make sense? i'm rambling. ;u;
well
just going to leave this here (feedback? i'd appreciate it)
bye
i'm kinda jumping on the bandwagon, huh? i'm sorry for not posting a lot recently. i procastinate a lot.
i actually menat for this poem to be spaced kind of awkwardly, so it'd be uneven, and 'splintering'. i dunno, does that even make sense? i'm rambling. ;u;
well
just going to leave this here (feedback? i'd appreciate it)
bye
© 2013 - 2024 funkylime123
Comments35
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love this!!!!
iʻm looking, iʻm looking . . . not seeing . . .
no wonder i canʻt write!!!!
ps thank you for the reference to the dictionary!!!