This poem isn't meant to be political and if it comes across that way, sorry. All I am doing is using my voice even if I don't get heard. Also, don't comment if you are just going to argue, everyone has different opinions, beliefs and ideas.
I have no idea where to start, Do I start with inequality? Do I start with racism? America, what happened? We should be past the point Of inequality and racism But everytime I go to Twitter all I see is people fighting to make a change that should've Happened a long time ago. I used to love being an American And felt pride for being an American But, now I don't love being an American And I don't feel prideful anymore.
America, what happened to We The People, Us, The people! What happened? This was a country meant For new opportunities and to Start a new life. What happened? Don't answer, I already know why.
I am looking out the window, No curtains because mom took them down And mom said she was going to wash my curtains But couldn't because the new washer needs to be replaced, Just like them. The sun is shining into my room, Birds flying pass by my window, Little children are out and about after the cold, long winter And for once I am not afraid of the light, No more darkness for me to eat like candy instead of eating dinner. I replaced my friends like my mom is replacing the new washer because Everything needs to be replaced, Some things can last for a lifetime and never has to be replaced But some things need to be replaced after a few years And they needed to be replaced.
Some background about the poem:
I've been in the same group of friends since middle school, currently in my junior year of high school, and just last week I walked into the cafeteria, ready to be ignore till I speak or someone speaks to me. I was going to work on my homework for English but I walked into an argument between two of my friends. Like most people, I was curious about what was going on. I asked but they didn't tell me, usually they will tell me but this time, they didn't, it wasn't until I got home and I made my decision to leave the group, someone in the group told me not to leave but I was done at that point. I was tried of being ignore and having my emotions being overlooked.
It has only been a few days since I made my choice and I am already starting to feel better about myself. Yes, it hurt to left, but, to be able to leave the group and the years of memories behind, was one of my greatest decisions and I don't regret it.
My mind is a ragdoll flying through the air, Flinging its arms all over the place and landing in the middle of a busy street, Cars swerve past, dodging the doll as if they are playing Flappy Bird. Dodge the pipes and you won't have to start over, Dodge the pipes and you might reach the end one day. Now, dodge the ragdoll that is called my mind and you won't crash into a tree, figuratively, Now, someone sees my mind and tells me that what I think isn't real and can't affect me, Now, they are dodging my mind, dodging my mind and avoiding my thoughts. Dodge my mind and you won't have to deal with the thoughts that run rampant 24/7, Dodge my mind and you won't have to tell me that the thoughts in my head can't affect me. All you have to do is dodge the thoughts that block your path, All you have to do is dodge my mind so you can move on to the next level, All you have to do is dodge my mind and thoughts to win the game.
Emotions are not like the toys you used to play when you were a child, You can't just throw them around and leave them outside to rust and to be left alone. Emotions are delicate, You've got to handle the emotions with care like you would with a newborn baby.
Playing with someone's emotions is like playing with fire, Emotions can be beautiful and blossoming like an Eastern Redbud tree in late March. But, they can bring hellfire and a torrent of thunderstorms down someone's pathway All because someone toyed with their emotions. It could've been the person they were dating, someone who they thought was their friend.
Some people love to toy with people's emotions, Seeing them suffer as they cry out in agony, They break people by tearing down their walls for their pleasure. But, they are also hurting inside too. They went through the same thing, being toyed with and left out in the yard to rust and crack. Then, they do the same thing to others but never try to fix the deep crevices in their skin and mind. Wanting others to feel the pain that they went through, A never-ending cycle of people being hurt.
Then, a person walks up to someone, Plays around with their emotions and leaves them out in the yard to rust and be forever forgotten. But, that person who was left in the dust, Stands up, bruised, bleeding, hurting, And walks, not to go hurt someone else, but, to fix what was broken. It takes years to heal but it can only take a few minutes to realize you need to start healing.
I didn't realize it could only take a few minutes to start healing, I didn't realize that I could heal from the past that broke me until I was halfway through My freshman year of high school. And, now, I'm a junior. Making new friends and leaving the people who played with my emotions behind Because they saw that I was cracked and bruised, they took advantage of me And made more cracks than I could count. I stood up that day during freshman year, Telling myself to forget the past the broke me And start healing.
My mind wanders, forgetting about the things I should be worrying about. It wanders to a time where life was simple, where all I worry was when My favorite cartoon show was coming on. It wanders to a time where no one really cared what you wore to school. But, it also wanders to a time where life As a child was tough. Parents fighting, Throwing a fit over something so stupid, etc. It wanders to a time where life used to be simple but life got complex, Twists and turns And I got lost, Trying to find the road back home before a random person picked up the vulnerable girl who got lost on the road of growing up. Eventually, I found a path that led to the right road, I'm still not there but with each passing day, I am getting closer to finding my way back.
The simple things I used to do Are making a comeback, The small smiles I make when I see something funny are also coming back, My laughs are becoming real, resembling the girl I used to be a long time ago. The funny faces I make when I'm around certain people, It's all coming back very slowly.
The simple things in life Was all I needed to be be myself again, or to start being myself again. It was a long journey that held Perilous paths that I made across. So that I can proudly say that I leaped over the hardships in life that shaped who I am.
The simple things, they were always there, I just forgotten about them.
Heyo! The second poem to my poetry book called "Eccedentesiast" is up. I used the same username on Wattpad, @writergirl_503
The sadness is overwhelming, I tried to smile but it was so fake I couldn't hide my sadness. I don't know why I'm sad All of the sudden. I was fine one moment And the next I wasn't fine. Maybe it because I have two Tests today, Or maybe it's the fact today Is the last day before Thanksgiving break And I won't see that people I care about till after. I won't get see the friends that Actually care about me, I won't get to see my favorite Teachers, I won't see her. I'm not going to me, I'm going to be the old me, The old me that was sad 24/7 And cried herself to sleep, Or didn't sleep. God, I hate breaks and tests.
Heyo! I started a poetry book on Wattpad called "Eccedentesiast" if you want to check it out. The username is the same on here, @writergirl_503.
This poem was written for my creative writing class I took. We're to find a painting or photo and write a poem about. I decided to find a painting with a violin in it because I love playing the violin. As I was writing the poem, I was having trouble writing it. Which rarely happens. It was at that point when I had a epiphany. Playing the violin kept me on Earth. It sounds a bit morbid, I know. But, it's true. Playing violin helped me and I didn't even realize. I've been playing since I was I sixth grade, currently in eleventh grade. Some people rely on a non tangible or person. It doesn't mean you have to stop relying on those things, you still can. Just be careful, we don't live forever but, the tangible objects, can last a lifetime if taken care of properly.
I doubt anyone read this long caption, but to the ones that did, thank you.
I do not know how many more words I could write before it becomes some bleak lines that barely make sense to any. It is as if they collapse one after another as you try to figure out how they all fit into the two am nights of summer. The world is burning, you can feel it in the air, wind burning everything that it touches. I remember standing at the door of an autumn eve, letting the wind whisper its secret crush on the dandelions. How it kisses her and makes her fly, writing a beautiful eulogy in the end. Things have been different lately, there is too much death when the world falls deaf. The death you can't romanticize about.
You turn off the AC and go back to the familiar creek of the fan from the ceiling. There is a sense of solitude as the world falls quiet for a moment in that darkness, I wish I knew how to write about the world, the world that I feel in that transient moment of solitude. How do you know what it is that you're feeling or the why?
I've read somewhere that, to understand free will you must understand the difference between making your decisions and predicting your decisions. I do not know what it means. But there is something so poignant about it, the helplessness of merely existing. Helplessness when the words fail to fall into the right place as you try hard to fix a few lines to tell a story.
You miss rain on a day like this, the first raindrop splattering on the broken twigs as roots slowly drown into the soil for a new life, a new beginning as if someone just hit a reset button. There is a sense of home in the emanating petrichor from the first rain that hits your skin. I do not know what it carries; sadness or happiness or longing for a familiar touch.
You talk in the strangest times, about things that keep flooding your mind. Of all the seasons you romanticized about, how you always hated the summer. But, I've always loved the way how you talk about rain. Of all the people that you ever loved who never knew how to love you back, I wonder if anyone ever danced with you in heavy rain. Why do you love rain? Is it the subtle sadness it brings on a sunny day? You always had a thing for melancholy, or is it the way it touches your skin in a way that no one ever did? Does it burn when it kisses your summer scars?
The pursuit of happiness is a lie if you ask me, if you want to feel the world, you need to take it all in. From the way the flower blooms, how it gently open its petals to see the beauty of the world, to how it slowly burn and wither away into the soil as if it was never there. If I could I would've told you all about it, about how to feel the world, bit by bit, word by word.
But there are words caught in our throats, tightening its grip every time you try to speak. So you disappear in the middle of a story when the world falls asleep, it is as if you were never there. You wish you could understand this, how everything becomes so disconnected at nightfall, even when it burns, even when it drowns. How you run out of words, run out of sound, run out of places, and engulfed in a melancholy. As if you're wandering through the woods after a heavy rain, barefoot, breaking free of all the silent sighs, not lost but never wants to be found.
You can feel the silence between the lines, around the curls on your favorite book that you keep coming back to, around the edges of the words, a silence someone left behind. But you can't quite figure out why you feel that slight melancholy even when it all feels so disconnected.
There is sadness in the silence, the silence between one word and another. There is sadness emanating from the trees, from the leaves, from the birds, from the chimes of a window where a widow weeps. You can feel it everywhere.
will you stay, near the shoreline of my obsolescence, when the summer bide a little longer?
what do you call a river when it dries up is it still a river or just, another reminiscence?
like a poet without the words, a city without the crowd. dust descends into the voids and it becomes a memory, to history to another story and you forget.
this season will wither away into a bare minimum of existence. you and I will be nothing but dust, drifting between places and time.
but will you stay a little longer for a summer rain? to survive another drought, to drown in another flood? will you stay this time?