Tag: poetry

trapped in an old frame

it looked me in the eye
and i suddenly felt trapped
in an old fragile body
a miserable lady
saggy skin
grey hair
a frown
grew up in famine and war
survived the bad days
wouldn’t smile through the good
felt sorrow throughout my bones
a cold wind
as if lived in the greatest depression
couldn’t get back
stuck in a frame
hanging in a wall
a greyscale
judged
in disgust
by everyone
passing by

don’t

don’t understand me
don’t accept me
don’t even mind me
just leave me
let me to be
let’s pretend i don’t exist
i thought you were good at that
maybe you were good
at emotionally ghosting me
maybe i was a statue to you
a physique
an existential being
being
here
emotionless
standing still
smiling
the way you like it
the way you want it

how about you let me go
break me to pieces
let me down that river
let my pieces hit all the rocks
up to the shore
let me break even tinier
until i am done existing
no more

upside down

years of having roots
deep down the ground
woke up
one day
upside down
roots cut
i flew
all the way
floating
in the darkness
surrounded by stars
that died
thousands of years
ago
but here i am
and all i remember
is the smell of grass
the sound of rivers
yet all i see
is
comsic emptiness
silenced by
a galaxy of nothingness

thirteen

i want to write
forgot how to spell
words don’t make sense
after twelve am

nothing has to rhyme anymore

i will write anyways
to thirteen years old me
i have to tell you
how much i love you

i love
every tear coming down your cheek
i love
every turn you made
every trial of existence
counting to ten
exhaling
was too hard
but i love
all the effort
your muscles
made

you were there for me
you never knew
my love
you took care of me
you created me

i am made of every struggle
every breath
everytime you opened your eyes
to face a new day
to feel emotions
you’ve never felt before
a battlefield
you were not trained for

i love you
i love every second you were
up until now
i owe you
my existing breaths
my ease
my being
it’s all you
i owe it all to you

thank you

thank me

a puppet

woke up this morning under a spell
head pounding, so many rooms in my mind, noises of different pitches, i still hear you from last night. anger filled silence. “one deep breath”, i tell myself.

“who’s your master?” i remind this self.

“a puppet.”

am i a me? or am i a puppet? held captive in my own body, keep a smile they said.

living a life between brackets. confined; suffocated.

wake up
get ready
for yet another
audit

a puppet; a show
get a ticket
attend my play
under a budget
handful of hope
another of despair
a splash of humor
for the audience
make them happy
watch them clap
curtain down
shut down
wait a minute
black screen count to three
another day
another play
repeat

opposite of home

stuck with those
who’re stuck
with a version of me
that doesn’t exist anymore

and being with them
brings up emotions
i cannot feel no more

heavy ink
guilty papers
alien words
unfamiliar stories

a foreigner
with whom i call home

war

the past year was all about going into war with my worst enemy; myself.

left every fight celebrating my loss, losing parts of me i needed to shed.

you start growing when you’re the only one noticing your battles;

celebrating every little win, leaving the battlefields brand new;

couldn’t even notice all the versions of you.

i ran out of ink; trying to journal every tiny thought, so many fleeting emotions couldn’t be fully felt.

black ink, endless paper, rewriting who i want to be, reinventing me.