A poem I wrote in january when it snowed after a really bad time.

From the dreamless pit of slumber, I arise with dreary eyes, And a shiver in the murky dawn, To the flicker of my phone. "Tis but another day," I murmur, my voice low, monotone.

Through ponderous steps and countless yawns, I drag myself from bed, To brave up for the numb of morning's cold, For another day of nothing, For another day of bore.

What is worth to be awake When all you have to wake up for Are all shades of black and brown, All the gray of clouded sun?

Through deserted streets I wander, The villagers are dormant still, And the chimneys, forever puffing, Vent the souls of kindled wood.

Sheepish trees with naked branches Share a seat for bitter crows, Croaking elegies of loss For their far-flung friends.

And the dark of dawn pervades, Befouling the very air, And the ground is hard and black, Shunned even by the bugs.

And the sky is gray, And the trees are nude and brown, And the ground is black, And I want to go inside.

But then I flinch, On my skin, I feel a pinch, A frigid flake prickles my spine, And I cannot help but smile, As little shards of pristine white, Suavely infest the dark, And in my hand, as if God-given, Fell a silver star.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/ZGgeIhZaWA

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/Z17p5fERrF

what do i really want?/

i’m not immature, i’m just a jerk

i lose battles with myself i never chose to win

keep habits that put me in positions to be hurt

i see my universe as fixed and make the bigger mistakes the second time around/

how will i learn?/

that affection is earned,

and not just a thing to be yearned for

that someone out there will love me for me

and not just for a quick score

i’ve won the war by realizing my worth,

but now i thirst for something that i can’t find on this earth/

i’m ready to meet my maker

and the undertaker that left me blind

i’d die to get back what i had before

i wasn’t overcome with this desire for approval

but now, i groove alone to the sound of my own funeral/

i fight to be heard, but it’s a losing battle

back on the saddle, they say, continue to strive

there was a time when i actually had the drive to still push forward/

i move back towards the version of me that i lost

the special sauce is different now, but still as special

another level to this game called life

i return my knife to it’s sheath and i continue forward//

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/JtGsO7dj61

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/weyxNllcvB

There is a place in my head
Small, mostly empty.
Stuck between the feeling of pointlessnes
And a stomach twisting stress.

A place my minds goes to sometimes
When I'm fascinated by the lines on the road
When I'm entertained by the feeling of my lips drying out.

In this place you won't find light,
But sometimes,
If you lay here long enough
Poetry appears.

link 1

link 2

With one word,

the world had responded

then as the universe fell silent

Once more,

the voice spoke;

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2

I am the moon walker, crying on a distant planet, thinking about what I have gained and what I have lost, thinking about what I have hated and loved, thinking about life and death, thinking

I keep my sadness in bottles, my pain in smoke, my stupidity in pills.

I am pain, the most real emotion that exists, I am death, I am lust, I am wine, I am freedom, I am whiskey, I am rage and above all I am an empty bottle

I am a clock going backwards, I am a book without an end, I am a gun without bullets, and a half-smoked cigarette, I am the glass half empty, I am just a stray dog ​​that wanders through the city

They give me poison in the streets to survive, I no longer bark like before, I no longer run like before, I am no longer the same street dog I was before.

Now I'm worse, I'm a human.

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2

There is no ensemble of letters I could half heartedly mismatch,

To say something that hasn't already escaped a greater mind.

There is nothing new under the sun, the moon and the stars,

And even that statement is unoriginal, bland and trite.

The rhyme, verses, and tone flow in the breeze, unattached to the earth.

I am only persecuted by the prolixity of my incompetence.

Prose is the errand of fools. The labor of the arrogant.

That believe their sonnets haven't been done better by others.

And yet I come to defame myself.

Love is stupid. Love is overbearing. Love is all consuming.

Infatuation is the paste that remains of a horse,

Beaten gruesomely by scholars and highschoolers alike.

In you lies where these falsehoods are of no importance.

Where every sunrise is the first, and every dawn renews the stars.

My idiotic blabber I pray resounds to the infinite,

On the galaxy devoid of emptiness.

FB1 FB2

Inebriation was the foundation of his blinded excursions.

What a careless life he had led.

A drunken fool, living a life of ignorant bliss

Till the day it came back as he had incurred.

Gone are thine friends, lover, and even job

Had he need to be censured?

Oncet of enamoration of thine dame

He had envisioned to gain

Insecurity beset unto him, impervious feelings as if of childish decree.

Left alone with absolute loneliness, not much could he comprehend,

For those days so cold, were filled with dread.

Thoughtless actions, he who of despicable disdain

As if from the depths of hell, had he reigned.

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The cold outside was a sentient presence, whispering through the air and wrapping its icy tendrils around everything. The sky, a swirling canvas of grey, released liquid diamonds that created a symphony on the wet ground. On March ninth, with my birthday just a day away, we entered a convenience store that felt like an enchanted grotto. The rows of drinks glowed with an otherworldly luminescence, each bottle and can shimmering as if containing liquid stardust. My brother asked what drink I wanted from the fridge, and in that moment, time stretched as the bottles gazed back at me like ancient beings. I sought something sweet, a potion to capture this moment and remind me of my growth and the responsibility I hold to nurture my spirit and embrace the journey ahead.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1cuppr4/comment/l4kh3va/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

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The metal alloy slithers around my head, cool and unyielding, a serpent's embrace,

Deemed royalty from a bloodline of dust, ancient and enduring,

Instead bred from prowess, forged in the crucible of strength,

I am king, the crown heavy with the weight of destiny.

The gold bestowed upon my temple, gleaming under the torchlight,

Deemed royalty from the stream of a monarch, flowing through veins like liquid fire,

Indeed, bred from luxury, nurtured in the lap of opulence,

I am queen, the diadem a symbol of unbroken lineage.

Even if the world roars, the cacophony of doubt and dissent,

We will risk it all, hearts united in defiance, ready to stake everything on our reign.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1cupstb/comment/l4kg103/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

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Our eyes latch to the verdict, the weight of the moment pressing down,

She does not know her own truth, a puzzle yet unsolved within her heart.

I will decipher the muttering words from sultry lips,

Tongue reaching the roof, a dance of hesitation and desire,

Her mouth opens and shuts, as the sun dusks to dawn, a silent rhythm of uncertainty.

I wanted her truth to the sacred words,

"Will you marry me?"

Her truth,

I cannot deny, an unspoken answer lingering in the twilight.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1cun4ea/comment/l4kfcr3/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

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We are unable to comprehend the siren sea, a vast, whispering abyss,

Tiptoeing forward will only sink you under, into the cold, eternal embrace,

Deep enough where light fails to breathe, shadows reign, and hope is a distant memory.

A place that breeds bones and excommunicates oxygen, a kingdom of the lost,

How do we cherish the infinite lives lost, forgotten echoes of existence,

Buried in a grave of water or lying on the sea floor, cradled by the indifferent waves,

Now living where it was never imaginable, in the silent halls of sorrow.

Through the lens of submersion, where the surface is a dream long forgotten,

Every soul is powerless, their stories swallowed by the depths,

Except the soul of Davy Jones, the warden of this watery purgatory, forever haunting the deep.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1cuobhn/comment/l4ke77m/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

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scorpio sun, gemini moon

a perfect love,

or something that came out of horror films/

scorpio sun, gemini moon

and if you want to know,

i have a rising placed in capricorn/

i can read online about a million things they say about me,

and though I can relate,

I think that most of it is probably bullshit/

scorpios are known for lust and jealousy,

that sounds like me

gemini comes out most in my prose,

and all the times i’m talkative/

all the signs are funny,

but their based on something more than us

the stars they can align,

the constellations can change minds

and though it may seem hard to us,

the secret is having more trust in the little things going right/

i think we sometimes miss the point of signs,

but i see them all the time

i pass the green light and i find that it’s enough to change my mind/

all the signs are funny,

but their based on something more than us

the stars they can align,

the constellations can change minds

and though it may seem hard to us,

the secret is having more trust in little things going right//

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/JtGsO7dj61

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/weyxNllcvB

binge mentality

it’s a shame to see

another week just ruined,

while i’m swallowing more ecstasy/

don’t know why I’m like this,

all i do is try to fight this,

i go weeks until i’m shaking

then the next three days awake/

i hate myself when off it,

give me coke or something like it,

if it’s stronger, or lasts longer

i’ll be knocking on your door begging for more/

im ashamed of the way I am,

but on drugs I go to the extreme,

and as I wean the shame grows even more/

i’m a whore when drugs take the reign

i’m free of all the shame,

and i did things i never can take back

these things they give me panic attacks/

binge mentality

it’s a shame to see

another week just ruined,

while i’m swallowing more ecstasy/

one pill turns into four after a couple days awake,

i don’t stop till i’m passing out

while waiting for the dealer to show up/

I’m fucked, I know it

might not show it,

but it’s getting even worse/

I’m flirting with disaster,

on the verge of a catastrophe

maybe i’ll just let that happen,

because then I actually might stop/

im ashamed of the way I am

but on drugs I go to the extreme,

and as I wean the shame grows even more//

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/9cAI00cFQK

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/QwZcKDekek

i crave affection,

but that craving started spiraling

into searching for a man that treats me like a whore/

being gay is weird,

and just my beard can be enough for the right guy to turn the other way,

and to this day my shame seems here to stay/

another thing that I have found,

being gay with mostly straight friends

is that I can’t assume attraction

often when I find a guy cute,

i sneak a peak and see him

shooting daggers back at me/

aggression and those lessons keep me from opening doors,

instead I’m just a whore,

in new york city, that’s for sure/

i crave affection,

but that craving started spiraling

into searching for a man that treats me like a whore/

boys should be allowed to think your cute,

without your fragile sense of manliness to boot/

boys should be allowed to crave affection,

and expect a guy to pay once in a while

a man who wants to make you smile,

someone to go the extra mile/

being gay is weird,

and just my beard can be enough for the right guy to turn the other way,

and to this day my shame seems here to stay/

boys deserve affection from a man if they desire,

most gay men should think higher of the treatment they deserve//

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/9cAI00cFQK

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/QwZcKDekek

Since you left, I finally have the bed
to myself again; I'm not indebted
to your homebody who only
likes it when there's something
to gain from the both of you going out;
I can flirt with strangers online and
have more first kisses on first dates than
I can count; my friends will say that
I seem happier in more ways than
sad soon. (I've stopped avoiding
the towels you used to use and the corner
where your desk once was. These were
the claims you made in the house, but
I still find my blurry eyes and parted lips
hard to look at in the mirror.)
The cats have realized that
you've moved on and
stopped lingering at
the door of our room.
I could learn too.

I had an out of body experience:
I looked up and saw your lyric poster missing
from the collage on the wall one day.
I drifted and landed on the print detailing
our solar system's position on
the day we struck our flags down,
declaring ourselves to each other.
You transmitted—transformed your
flag into one I don't recognize anymore.
Wisps of your fingers still trace
letters on my back in lagtime.
How can I keep a steady beat when
the measure is incomplete without
you? My signal fizzles into the static of
an empty station no one seeks for.
I went dim. My love eclipsed
when I became a close-second-love.
I gave light to other stars, and in hindsight,
and without the people-pollution,
I can see my lone heartbeat
picking up speed.
Push-pin holes are just
supernova remnants—
the only proof I will submit as
evidence that the snot-filled tissues
which cascade off my bed were worth it.

1
2

i have grown,
i have reflected,
i have been patient.

yet i cannot
seem to mend
the bond
we formerly had

for you have again
managed to leave
a fresh wound
on my conscience

but the scratch
i left on you
looks to have healed

the blood which once flowed jointly,
seeping through the marks we left on each other,
connecting our intellects,
have ran dry
on your end

did i become dull?
or was it simply
just a matter
of time?

why cant i
reach you
like i once could?

why am i
the only one
still bleeding?

comment 1

comment 2

the last time you came
you were sick, and you were in pain
but I still wanted to play
so you went cold
punished my selfishness
with the harshest thing
I could have not imagined
abandoned me that awful last night
and in the morning walked away

you called a few months later
maybe to reconcile
maybe just to be heard
I held the phone in silence
finally you ran out of words
maybe I said goodbye
and when you were gone
it was nothing like a victory, only regret
I'd heeded the poor counsel of my hurt
when you needed to be understood

1 |2

Most will yearn for a restful sleep at night;
Others set their alarm clock on delay.
Embracing insomnia without fright;
Evening producers slumber in the day.

Wise owls feast under the moonlit sky;
Opportunities are made in the dark.
Their senses are clearest when they’re up high;
Late evening toilers never miss their mark.

The most ambitious seek a bigger prize;
Beware those that watch the sun and the moon.
The strongest hunters never close their eyes;
They’re always prepared with a sharp harpoon.

Best laid plans are made when no one’s looking;
Behind scheming eyes, something is cooking.

feedback 1

feedback 2

The first time I saw you
I was walking down the street
to the café shop
listening to that classic rock

when I bumped your way
and said “baby hey”
well since that day
we’ve been like peanut butter and jelly

We were inseparable
When night would fall
You were my star and I would hold you
One problem still arose
eventually all stars explode

The last time I saw you
you were walking down the street
to the café shop
listening to some shitty pop
if I had walked your way
maybe something would’ve changed
But instead since that day

I’ve been surrounded in blue
Wondering what happened to you
See in my lucid dreams it’s clear
it’s us together

You wear a white dress
I stand by the altar
As we kiss
the crowd looks offended
They know that’s how
it should have ended

Feedback 1 https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/TBpa1ELpNc

Feedback 2 https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/gBzRD42bgR

my mother tells me of a time

(the vaguest memories in my mind,

through faded photographs of mine)

/

of living out on farmland

in a small house among the stars

of light orange sunsets and clothespin mornings spent

in an endless stretch of yard

/

and the existense of a rottweiler,

whose name i've long forgotten

how he and i were the best of friends

/

and i must have been so small back then

to jump up onto his back and act

like he was my loyal steed

my valiant dark guardian

poised for the attack

/

rottweiler

i apologize for being mindless then

when the minds meant to mold me

bored spores into my head instead

for your body was not mine to bend

/

now in my mind

/

that farm is only darkness

in the lighting of fluorescents

shone upon linoleum

with those few photographs left behind

of rarest, truest light

/

and i don't believe they taught me happiness

but i thank that dog for being mine

/

fb: https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/CIyOGm9pbH https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/SCefPfcMeO

today i woke up with a memory in a dream so i have realized that i also have flashbacks in my dreams, ive always have dreams like this but because they are dreams so it is easy for me to assume they are just dreams that are so random.

now ive always see this visions of flashbacks, forgotten memories in the past. but in the past as i awoke from those moments, i always have this tiny glimpse of what happened, but then as i wake up from those glimpse, as soon as i open my eyes, i cant seem to recollect any of those memories, for i will be busy in this house, so lost in the moment, trying to figure out what just happened back there. it feels just like a dream.

sad for it to be called a dream because soon as i realized or lately, it would feel like a nightmare, this vision of the past, i cant comprehend a bit, cause it feels like a lie, people would tell me things that had happened, but why is that as soon as they tell me, i could not seem to remember what they had told me.

why is that, a question for myself, is it because of something that i cant remember that was put on me, a drug? a serum? or just a series of events to make me forget of that time, to easily scramble my thoughts, words that are spoken for me so i dont remember. gifts that make me go blind, is it appreciation that has killed my memory? is it a weakness of a person that has lost a memory, gain a new one but lose the other.

i feel sorry for myself, i keep pitying myself to the point of crippling fear, then what about the people that i have hurted, breaks my heart that i cant do something for it, just waiting in vain, till i see the colors again. nothing to do but observe the glistening sunshine of the grey sky. beautiful but has its lonely presensce. for ive known its colors. it was once was vivid as the ocean, and for all i know, heaven has witnessed my truth. never was a lie, i was just a fool.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/h2lFilODpO https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/0rUYfcchbb

Hi guys. I’m aware this poem requires a bit of (medical) context so you can scroll to the end for it or you can just experience it blind. ( 1 2 )

\\

My body is whimpering these begs to stay alive.

But I withhold the medicine in a a literal gut wrenching tease (side effects include: severe abdominal pain).

There’s no cure for this disease and several names for this cruelty.

I’ll shuffle through them like a deck of cards. Make your bets now. How many hospital visits this year? Just one if I do this right…

When the lights go off and nobody’s home,

the report will say the house was last observed hollow,

because my body was eating itself to stay alive and all these ugly musings died with me.

What can I say? My liver’s a champion.

I’m lucky. That’s what the doctor said.

Ha.

On my deathbed, the boisterous cadences of my hunger will have followed me.

Echoing from the flimsy walls of this wicked anatomy.

(A moment of silence to let the teenage-edginess pass, please. The flesh must mock itself to save itself).

What was it for? I.E this self-inflicted torture.

A body in pain is easier to inhabit, that’s how it’s always been for me.

Even the anxieties are worth the way my collarbones jut in this sexy way.

“Too much, too much, Body. Rein it in. Tone it down.”

There’s a strategy to this, you see. The best killers are only briefly suspect.

My skin is yellow. My skin is dry. I’ll go blind one day. Not today. Two warring concepts. Who I Am and Who I Thought I Was.

(“You’re lucky.”)

Oh, how the dress clings…

Insert cartoonish sound effects of medicine being injected.

The swelling is instant. Of my body, and of the orchestra as my life is finally fed. (THE DRESS CLINGS! IT MUSTN’T! IT MUSTN’T!).

My bloodstream’s biased. Can’t listen to it. My brain chemistry is feeling conflicted about the whole ordeal but it’ll come around.

Self-love is important and I’m afraid the insulin metabolizes it, too.

I won’t let myself swallow my reality.

But this tiramisu serves my goals perfectly, friend (It comes in biscuit-cream-coffee-chocolate-devastation layers).

I’m supermodel-level agonized, baby. That’s the suffering we all strive for.

I make an idol of the grief.

The months keep track of themselves loudly. (Doctor in ICU: you’re just waiting for an accident to happen. (Girl has no response)).

Anyhow, a corpse can’t feel regret so I’m not too worried.

Just pretend you understand my humor (like how I pretend I don’t understand this sacrifice).

This one’s on me if you promise never to ask how I am.

///

Context: Diabulimia is a complicated eating disorder where a diabetic will purposely withhold insulin to lose weight (as insulin is a hormone that helps sugar enter cells for energy and therefore cause weight gain). As insulin is withheld, the liver begins to breakdown fat and basically melt it into the bloodstream for energy. Weight is lost but the blood’s acidity rises as a consequence leading to DKA, fatal if not treated. If you or someone you know is exhibiting side effects of DKA or diabulimia, allow me to be cliche and advise you to seek help.

They say that there's a god

They say that he knows my thoughts

That he knows my heart

That he knows me and that I am obliged to know him

They tell me that there are rules

That I should follow what is written

That I should do as I am told

That if I am a good Christian girl he will bless me making everything okay

They say he takes all the bad things and makes them go away

But what they don't say is that actually there is no god

That no one is going to save you

And that the devil is real

But his name isn't Lucifer or Satan

It's Tom and Harry and Jesus

It's Debbie and Jasmin and Rachel

He's the face staring back in the mirror

He's the shadow on the oil covered streets

And they certainly don't tell you that the only way the devil lives is inside of you and me

You see

In a world with no god but plenty of devils

There are children going hungry

There is brother fighting brother

There are too many wars

And people so blinded by the nuclear blasts to even begin to know how to recover

There are plenty of smiling faces in perfectly posed pictures

But behind their stretched facades

Their coifed and primped up manes

They're all bruised, battered, bloodied up, and blistered

From the battles they've been fighting in their own backyards

Yet still they send their thoughts and prayers up

Performing strange rituals of magic

Sitting down to offerings of:

Chopped pig, *shucked corn, fresh greens, sweet yams, cowpeas, yellow cake

PBR in red solo cups

God bless America

1/2

*Edited to correct spelling

My professor didn't want to round up my grade so I kind of vented...

Former Comments:

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1csqs9h/an_anniversary/

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1ctlk76/many_lives/

What appeal is there to attend my insufferable professor's lecture turned ego-trip?

Their embossed diplomas sit on their dusty, barren bookshelf,

Empty as the three bottles of bourbon in their recycling bins,

Environmentally conscious!

I've grown to love my tenured position as a RateMyProfessor critic,

So fulfilling to send my professors to Galaxy J0613+52.

Looking for constructive criticism please!

__________________________________________________________________________________

My mother says I'm different these days,

Bitter wine, aged in my reasoning

When once I was a sweet refreshing sip.

That made one think of youth.

.

I think of loss in response.

The fracturing of a friendship

Which was five years in formation.

Or the decisive destruction of

What was once devotion, love.

.

I think of pulling baby teeth out with strings attached to doors. Of gnawing gaps in mouths. Of grinning up at my father, tongue pressed at the bloody absence which invites.

.

I think of being bitter.

Of maturity which only blooms on the settled soil

That marks a tomb of something given away

To time, to foolishness, to growing up.

I think of gravestones,

Of marking something lost.

I think of how my body is itself a grave.

.

Absence is catalyst.

It is explosive devastation,

Demanding something new be built here

In the bitter empty left behind.

What grieves will not just heal,

But be changed by the very act.

.

I smile at my mother, my absences all overgrown with thick, discolored skin. There is no regrowing baby teeth, no smoothing out the scarring. There can be no return to a time before the door was slammed, before the adult teeth grew in.

.

My mother is proud of me, but yet,

All I can think of is the ship of Theseus.

My identity hangs in limbo.

I don't smile like I had just a year ago.

And so I mourn her too, the young woman

Who was transformed by living.

Who I replaced by coming into being.

.

I place chrysanthemums by a grave

Bearing my own name

And a photo of a girl I cannot recognize.

I pretend as though I am not

Aching at the departure of who I used to be.

I wrap a string around the grief

.

And with a deep breath,

.

I slam the door.

F1 F2

so this one is a bit different, it’s meant to mimic the way your mind races and jumps from one thought to another abruptly and without a moment in between when you’re panicking. But please let me know if the formatting just doesn’t work! Thanks for reading 💜

/ / /

I can’t take it I can’t I can’t can someone feel this for me for a little while so I can breathe please please I know it’s what’s supposed to happen what needs to happen but can I just step out of the world for a minute can all things just stop I need silence but I need cacophony but I need to sleep for two weeks but I need noise so loud I can’t think can’t feel anything but the reverberation Is it emptiness or is it feeling too much I can’t tell I’m just a trespasser in this body and if I stop writing I think I might die my heart is on its way to stopping my heart is pounding itself into oblivion and I think that would be better except I think of everyone I’d leave behind and I don’t know if they’d forgive me for this why should they I can’t forgive myself Can I make sense of this pain Will this mean something one day and why did you come pouring in like rain if you never wanted to stay and is it my fault I know it’s my fault

and this is part one of my comeuppance and this is providence and this is payback from a universe that despises me from a world that wants nothing to do with me and don’t take your eyes off me please don’t tell me it’s better if we say our goodbyes if we never say anything at all and if you say I never mattered I might go out like a candle through breath but if you say I always did I might never let you go and I don’t know how to let you go can you believe I miss you and I need you like water and if I never see you again how can I go on but it’s what’s right what’s meant to be what’s necessary I’m just too selfish to care now I want to burn down my bedroom my image my truth for you can you smell the smoke can you see me glowing I will make myself the pyre to which you bear witness let me let me please let me

/ / /

insta: https://www.instagram.com/gallowsfed?igsh=MzZ6ZGV1NjJyeGFh&utm_source=qr

F1 F2

How much time had to pass
to understand me when I was a child?
If all that seemed strange
was me, a constant explosion,
a walking bewilderment,
a bleeding enigma.

They said I caused them
something odd.
They hid their rejection
behind my drama tag.
Meanwhile, I walked
trying to hold my pieces,
while finding balance in chaos.

The desperate injustice
of feeling atypical
in a typical world.
A piece without a puzzle,
a card without a castle,
a seven and a three.

Locked in my room
with imposed walls and invisible doors,
I went inside to go outside.
I lost myself in nature's face,
and I found unconditional love.
I contemplated what simplicity is
and I embraced it in my center.

Time made me a storm
and made me solid wood;
a third later, all that I hid
beneath a mental carpet
rose and dragged me
through a black hole.
I lost myself in the weight of truth
and revived from the ashes.
I finally understood
that I wasn't a broken person,
just a body in histamine.

I merge my new self
with my inner child
in this parallel dimension.
I burned the bullies
and the gaslighters
in the young fire
of divergent wisdom.

F1

F2

Virtue reveals itself in patience
Claims humanity since times ancient
But I want to be aged already,
Experiences tucked in my pocket,
Defined by wrinkling pages
Weathered and worn, like my body
Watching birds fly to and fro, an elder’s hobby
I will watch them go,
Thumb rubbing my memorial locket

I dream of being one with the birds
A skylark, a sparrow in the dark
Raining my warble, my tune –
Pouring it over the world, my own deluge
How I yearn to release experiencing agents
From their self-defining suffering –
From the retrospective blues
How I yearn to believe in reincarnations,
To know a lasting part of me
Will inspire those below to be free
How I yearn for eternity,
For a taste of wisdom and patience

Direction is relative, and so is virtue
Impatience shines a light forward
A shadow is cast backward, too
I want to be young again –
How naive I am at the ripe age of twenty-two
How could I be such a fool?
But so, too, can I see the end
It’s just as frightening now as it will be then
Even though it's all in my head
It won't stop me from leaving my nest

How I yearn to be a youth
With no tarnished lens blocking my view,
Forcing me to judge worldly bodies –
Something nothing gets to choose
How I yearn to be a fledgling,
Wings on the air, cut loose in my debut
No concept of Ring Around the Rosie,
Of the grit and grime of strife
One can want and work for anything
And yet procure nothing in this life –
We resort to silent screams inside

Perhaps, though, it's a lie
Passed down the generational line
Perhaps it's our role to be audacious,
To forget about heavenly truths
And all of these implanted rules
Perhaps we soar to the greatest height
And scream to the moon,
A startlingly bodacious sight:
“Fuck patience – up and down,
Forward and backward, too.
I exist now, and I shall be what I want to be –
Do what I want to do.”
Perhaps impatience is a virtue

--------------‐

This is my first time posting here, so I really appreciate any comments or suggestions. Here are my two comments:

1. https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/EE70xAtGEH

2. https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/UVX4fwhSrE

The human condition

is turning pages in a book

of which the reader

cannot fully comprehend.

‎

‎‎ They strain their eyes

under the dull glow

of an uncaring sun

and blur the story further.

‎

‎‎ Blind to the strings

which make puppets dance

they observe the motion

and label it reality

‎

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/4rFV7wEnzg

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/H1aqSy7mnf

A waiter walking through waggons filled with ideas.

The train doesn’t stop, doesn’t go. Ideas yearning freedom being petrified.

One Idea jumps out landing soft. One Idea jumps out landing harsh.

Will you jump out?

The Train of thought won’t stop for you. The Train of thought stops for nothing.

————————————————————————— Feedback:

1. https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/KJODP2NpcR

2. https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/pPuLfOnuKa

(First time writing a poem and also posting links on Reddit so pls tell me they work besides feedback (: )