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Poetic T Jan 2019
In a sea of shards,
     there will always be diamonds.

Never cutting, shining beneath
     the waves of anguish above.
buzz Apr 2018
If I could write a letter to the girl I used to be
When my friends felt more like paper dolls, and my notebook spilled black ink onto my hands and stained everything I loved
When I met that miracle with crossed eyes and spindle limbs, and decided to hang stars from her eyelashes
When it felt like my furniture had been moved two inches to the left, just enough to feel wrong, just enough to chaffe
I would tell that girl that I found God
And God was nothing like I thought
I would tell her that I met Him when my skin split open, like all the words I swallowed dry had crawled up out of my veins to show me what hurt really felt like
He was my razor, He was my blood, He was the sting of sweat in fresh cuts
That night I thought about you, little girl
I thought about all the reasons I didn't want to die
See, you don't know this yet, but you’re about to meet the family you never had
One lives in Texas but I swear, you’ve never felt so close to someone so far away
She will show you how to have faith in something bigger than yourself, and how warm it is to fill yourself with love
She will be the mother you thought you would never get to meet, and there's not a **** thing you wouldnt do to protect her
And the other one
You're gonna think she's somewhere else entirely, but one by one, the days sitting with her will feel more like home than where you sleep at night
Shes gonna show you how rage can be kind, and how to let the world roll off your back like drops of rain off stained glass windows
She is your brother, and a swiss army knife, and a lucky pair of brass knuckles
The world is gonna kick your ***, kid
You're gonna write it down with a pen fashioned from your bones
and you will never pause to look behind you
Poetic T Nov 2017
We each have found
                     that hole,
that keeps us under our own
           perspective of life.

Till that one who grabs
            that handle,
and digs for you.
    digging deeper, wider.


On the precipice of falling
into this void of there making,
              they stare deeply.
Looking at him asking.  
                                
          "Why,

"What is a hole, if its sides
                         are not vertical.


Looking perplexed at the words
                of this stranger...

"Not every hole has to be yours,
            "But when we work together,
"We create the steps to walk upon.

"You have to dig deep to find the way out,

Were all have our own holes,
               sometimes burying us deep.
But when a voice of another speaks of
                                         there moments,
and how they fell deeper.
It only takes those steps of thought
               to eventually realize
that not ever hole buries us.

But we can eventually step out.
Poetic T Jul 2017
Empty silhouettes gather around
my footsteps sweeping me in the
current of what's expected of me.

I'm not a reflection of you, no matter
the pressures, pushing me into a tide
of despair, I'm going under do you care.

Collecting my discomfort, I etch it word
for word. Anxiety drains from my wrists
flowing within each syllable, scaring paper.

Ill never be a perfect copy of your footsteps,
drained of self, I'm a fractured reflection.
I'm tired, I need to be a reflection of me.
it's weird to be afraid of yourself,
to be afraid of who you are
i'm always trying to change myself,
make myself that much better

i'm always struggling to see,
who I am or attempting to be
i never seem to figure it out
i always fear, I always doubt
always regretting my regret
blaming others for what I forget
and that's not right
that I'm so god ****** doubtful of my decisions

was that the right thing to say
did I do that the right way
should I go or should I stay
should I throw it all away

these are the questions I'm afraid of
the fact I ask these
the fact I actually answer these
with some dumb decision
that I'm not really sure of
unless it's against me
separating I from we
making myself a victim of imagination
created a home full of confrontation
and the lies I told were the worst
all those bubbles I had to burst
and there is still so much left
i wish I just got up and left

and that's my fear day by day
asking me to throw it all away

w.j.w.k
this one is very aggressive
Jane Halliwell Oct 2014
A girl with silver skin
silver eyes and silver hair
reflected everyone around
but in the mirror - saw nothing there
Sort of comes off as a nursery rhyme so that's what I'll consider it
Alexis Apr 2014
Society is so focused on being flawless.  Perfect.  No one is flawless, not even Beyonce.  We will forget who we are on the inside, and soon that won’t even matter because the physical appearance is the main priority.  Women these days are spending so much effort trying to look perfect, which hurts.  Pretty hurts.  Society is expecting women to look perfect, otherwise people will judge.  ‘Perfection is a disease of a nation’. The showbiz industry is giving a negative message to the world.  Photoshop is one of them.  Making a celebrity look flawless is fooling the world into thinking we must look like that.  Spending so much money on clothes, hair etc. but we don’t need to focus on that because all that matters is on the inside, which most people don’t seem to see anymore.  We are constantly getting the messages in our mind that we must be flawless, and sooner or later, this is a disease.  Some of us can’t take it anymore, which leads to anorexia, bulimia, insecurities, and issues with body image.  Pain also takes over our minds, which is ridiculous.  Even celebrities have gone through this because in our naïve little minds, we are thinking we have to be pretty.  There is so much pressure it takes over our minds, and that’s the only thing we think about.  We look into the mirror despising ourselves, because we are who we are.  Society has created us into thinking there’s a certain way we must look, which there is not.  Our flaws make us who we are, makes us positively different.  Unique.  But we aren’t allowed to think that way because the media isn’t allowing us to.  When people change, they are only cheating on themselves because media displays images of what we should and shouldn’t look like.  It’s not their fault though.  They can’t help it.  Changing, like getting botox or body implant is only giving us a masquerade.  It’s a mask to hide our real, inner beauty, which the media has taken the idea away from us, to become people who we actually aren’t.
And in the end, we know that pretty hurts.
a.a.
this probably ******

— The End —