A thousand whispers
Echo in my mind
The what ifs and the maybes
That have kept me here, confined.
An inner universe forgotten.
An undiscovered life
To find the courage of acceptance
To heal the child inside
A maiden gazed upon the glass,
A vision of herself, alas.
Her eyes, like diamonds, sparkled bright,
Reflecting back a wondrous sight.
Her tears, like pearls, began to fall,
A precious sight, both grand and small.
Her beauty shone, a moon above,
A pearl of night, a symbol of love.
Why, maiden, art thou so unkind,
To judge thyself, so harsh of mind?
......
There is a girl
naive, innocent and stubborn
who lives inside me
unaware of the demons of the real world
whenever i sit alone,I'm not really alone
she sits beside me
reminding me that I'm just alone and not lonely and that she's always gonna stay inside me
she tells me abt how i felt when i was high up in the sky while swinging with my brother
or when i was cooking with my mother
......
I have to ask myself this question. Why did I ever stop writing? Why have I never shared my writing to the world. Maybe it has to do with my inability to love anything I do. I guess when I thought when I was writing this, my perspective would be a romanticized mumbo jumbo about the girl if been obsessing over since the day I met her. But I think I need to write something about someone else. How can I love a girl so unconditionally and yet fail to give any love to myself?
I think its safe to say I’ve got things I need to work on. But I can’t seem to shake this feeling of love that she makes me feel. Everything just comes easy with her. I don’t hide who I am and I just want to hold her in my arms and never let go. This may sound dumb but I can already see me getting married to her. The fact that I can love this girl so much and yet, fail to be kind to myself makes me realize that there is more to love then just family, friends and relationships.
Self love is a concept that many of us struggle to let into our lives. The entire population of young adults know how important this form of love is to one another. Yet so many of us struggle daily to say one nice thing about ourselves. I guess my incapability to love myself drives from a deep dark pit inside my heart. I’ve always described my heart as an empty cauldron with a leak at the bottom. Can always be refilled, but will eventually empty. Left with nothing but a numbness, empty and depressive feeling.
But it doesn’t have to end in darkness. Many amazing events drive from love. It is not only the act of marriage that defines what love is. Love comes in all shapes and sizes, just like the human body. And the human body, that’s where love was born. Our heart can only define what we see love is. My heart see’s love in hopefulness. One day I will feel that ultimate love. But that’s just my perspective.
Leaving eighteen
What is wrong with me?
Every single night before I close my eyes
This question plays in my head on repeat
I know I'll never be able to answer
This question
Because I don't know what is wrong with me...
I don't think there is anything wrong with me
I'm just drowning in a pool of self hate
......
Ever since I was born, I was rotten. I was born out of contempt, made out of hate. It was always going to be this way, and that is fine. I can accept it, even embrace it, I’ll find some way to aestheticize the gasoline in my blood. I feed the poison until it’s all-consuming and surrounds me in a warm blanket of filth and flesh.
I don’t want to lose it, because I don’t know what else there is. There isn’t much else for me.
I lack creativity and natural talent. A more accurate description is that I lack the words to describe the vivid feeling in my chest. The way my head throbs every day, trying to break out of its bony constraints and slither out of me because I swear there’s something meaningful in there.
So I can find comfort in the rot, in knowing that it must be worth something. It has to be, because I cannot accept that I just feel everything far too deeply and intensely until there’s nothing to feel at all.
I cannot even accept mundane kindness. I react to it like a vulture, pecking at it until I’ve taken all there is, harbouring and hunting the remnants because I just cannot trust it. I react with suspicion and - because I refuse to show that I’m afraid - my fear turns into anger.
......
Beneath the quilt of starlit thread,
Across the skies where comets bled,
I drifted far beyond the blue,
To speak with all the universe knew.
I sat upon a silver ring,
Where Saturn’s whispers softly sing,
And cried aloud to endless night:
"Is there love for me in this life?"
......
I searched for love in distant eyes,
In empty words, in fleeting skies.
But silence whispered, soft and clear—
The love you seek is always near.
I held the pain, the dark, the light,
And in that space, I found my sight.
No need for others to complete,
I am my own, whole and sweet.
My breathing hitched and my heart sped up. This object shows me a monster, one which I do not wish to see. The monster the object shows me, growled a low rumble, like it was speaking to me. I see the many scars and blemishes on the monster, all of it's flaws. I look again, but I see something different, in their eyes. Anger, guilt, hurt, betrayal, sadness, self-loathing. For once, I feel bad for the monster and it's flaws. They actually seem sorta sweet, and ever so friendly. I get mad at the object for convincing me to think so low of the monster. I curse and punch the object out of frustration. The mirror shatters.
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At the pit of her core
despair and darkness.
Turned from the world
in loathing revulsion.
Black as coal.
The ugliness of truth,
a withered world of weight
stares back.
......