Poetry

~oxt. 16~ (oct. 16, '21)

one

tw

• school

text

things to do today:

• buy a blank notebook
• do your homework
• write a story

...

• be gentle with yourself

two

i gave you

everything.

and then i wonder why I have nothing.

three

no.

you dont get to

hurt

me.

not now.

not today.

not ever again.

four

tw

• caps
• bold, underlined text

text

If you think

I

will sit in

s i l e n c e

you are wrong.

Instead

I will

STAND

in

silence.

five

tw

• mention and description of overdose

text

Something about the way she looks at me...

I can't describe it.

Like a sweet spring breeze,

like my heart softly curling just perfectly around my neck.

Like an overdose;

not that I've had one;

the tingle of your body, caught off guard

the black dots in your vision bursting at the seams.

The calm of the storm, the rose of your cheeks, the satisfaction and the adrenaline.

like that

yeah.

just

like

that.

six

it is never about

what i can do with my words...

only what i can do with

my knowledge.

but if you'd shut up

for once...

you'd see what i can do with My

silence;

power;

wisdom;

light;

love;

pain;

you see what I can do All By Myself.

slam poetry ~apr. 13~

tw

• implied rejection dysphoria
• feeling worthless, hopeless, etc.
• school
• screaming
• mention of crimes
• gun
• toxic friend
• food
• dream smp
• sickness

text

I wonder a lot of things

like how my friends think of themselves.

How their smile shines bright when they think of something they love.

How they look at me with wonder

say it’s okay

because they really enjoy the time we spend together

but I keep apologizing

because I feel like a burden.

Sometimes I wonder what would happen

if I was never deemed “gifted”

if they never put me in special classes

and burdened me with homework

and a feeling of never being enough,

never doing enough,

always seeing a goal that I can’t reach.

And I wonder what my teachers think

as I raise my hand for the sixth time that day

or maybe I haven’t yet

and maybe they’re thinking of what I’ll say

what I’ll leave out,

why I just had to share this story.

Time is precious

and I never seem to have enough of it.

Time escapes my grasp

and I can only watch

And I wonder where it goes.

And sometimes I wonder

“Do my friends hate me?”

Are they lying to me so I’ll leave them alone

or do they really not care when they text me five times

just so I get to their house on time.

And I wonder if the apologizing is ever enough,

if it’s a crime to say sorry as much as I do,

if one day they’ll think I don’t mean it when really,

every time I say sorry,

I want to scream it so loud I never have to say it again.

And sometimes I wonder why

my brain holds me at gunpoint

to do the things I do.

Like it’s a crime.

I wonder if my teachers remember me,

if I left an impression like I always wanted.

I think about the times they’d say,

“You lost your privilege”

and I wonder if they’re the reason for my trust issues

or if it’s that one toxic friend I had

when my brain was most impressionable.

I know that the guy at my bus stop had no reason to lie,

but I wonder if he did.

Was it my fault?

I wonder why the stars align as they do,

why English has to be so hard,

why we can’t just reinvent our universe so it isn’t confusing.

I wonder if my parents will ever listen,

or if they’re lying to me,

if they put on a smile just for me and as soon as I leave, they wipe it off

like how I purposefully miss the sour spots on apples.

I wonder if I will ever achieve the goals I make,

if I’ll ever read as many books as I want

or watch as many movies as I want.

I wonder if the hero was right, or maybe the villain was.

Because as Ghostbur says,

“A villain is just a hero you haven’t convinced yet.”

And I wonder if my friends think of me as a hero.

Or a villain.

Am I a villain?

...no, that can’t be right.

I don’t want to be a villain

I don’t want to be like a sickness

something you don’t want to catch

something you pass on to people

something you want to get rid of

something that exhausts you

something that brings you pain and turmoil

something that infects you

something that barges in uninvited, calls your house home.

God, I wish I didn’t wonder.

Because when I wonder,

suddenly,

I’m my own sickness.

music

from the studio,

within the guitar

through the speakers

of your car

between your teeth

across your tongue

from space and back

amidst the young

in your headphones and

out with your speech

with a message for all

worth a thousand voices' preach

the flower garden

tw

• animals
• mention of death (in a common phrase)

text

above the chatter

across the river

as far as the sun may go

through the prarie

around the villages

against the rain and snow

in spite of the clutter

in lieu of the chaos

between the slim byroads

near the butterflies

ahead of my view

into the great unknown

because of my conscious

'till death do us part

hence why i came to these beautiful blooms

by means of my free will

next to the flower garden

out where theres breathing room