my story
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Sometimes it is easy to get lost in the thrill of it all,
And sometimes you need to remind yourself that not everyone will be there for you when you fall.
We used to be close
You were like my best friend
But sadly that came to an end.
You said let's play
You locked the door,
To hide us away,
You were younger than me
But we were the same age,
Maybe you should just try to let them in Try to let them see that you're hurting, that you're hurt by his words. He damaged her beyond repair yet here she is... brOKen. I'm okay she says, I'm fine seriously.
Some days are like a haze
I start to realize that it was all a phase
Who I am today isn’t who I’ll be tomorrow
But “Everything happens for a reason”
Dear girl I used to be…I’m sorry.I’m sorry for the lies, I’m sorry for making you put on that disguiseA fake smile, a fake face, a fake body and a fake placeIn this world, telling you what you needed to be
Introduction
Do not pity me
I got myself into this
I’ll write myself out
Beginning
Lines on a clean page
Dear curious stranger,
You wanted to know who I was, where I came from, and what my story is.
My story is written in my hands,
Beautiful patterns of henna sprawled across a rough canvas,
I am the cave you always see.I am the cave you leave be.When you look at meyou notice danger all around me.An that's all you ever will see Don't get me wrong; I'm not trying to be mean.I just want you to see how much looks deceive.If you took a ch
one of the saddest things
i've ever known
is the weighted feeling
that comes with understanding
there is some
no so much beauty in
Five, Seven, Five.
Who knew these numbers would be my drive.
All I had known a poem to be
was words with rhyme and rhythem so free.
A childs game was all it became.
Oh see and observe.
I don't know why bad things happen to good people. I don't know why God gave me sight for the things I can't see. I do know that the struggle is real. Trying to make it past all you have ever known. Not know what story to tell.
When one loves something
They often don't know
Its a funny story
That in fact I do but don't
My love for poetry
Started just like that
From the moment I could read and write
I never did like poetry,
‘Least not in books or school.
There was no A, B; C, B, D, D,
Nor rhythm to beat to.
I never did like poetry,
A jumbled mess of words.
I’m no prodigious poet.
In fact I’m quite the odd bird,
I’m always delving deeper
into ideas others find absurd.
As my father crossed oceans
I fell onto my knees;
anxiety and depression:
I was riddled with anxiety on the fist day,
Unsure of who to speak to, or what to say.
I was afraid of the world, and the people around,
Unsure of my place, I was lost, afraid to be found.
the monster in my dreams
who is it who tortures me?
with no answer to my plea
a silent scream I will release
because of what I see,
in these grusome scenes
I am wishing they would cease
I give my heart, my soul to the matter of diction. The word of mouth speaks no fiction
I make the words speak so people seek, me who I am and what I'm supposed to be.
It's like I'm lost in an ocean
blue as can be
without a map in my hand
or a single home to call mine
I've been looking for answers
looking for what's true
but when I look for love
Insomnia seems to grace me
With his presence each night.
Loneliness often deafens me
With the words he left unspoken.
Anxiety holds me hostage,
Invoking memories I want to forget.
Within my body
marked on my arms
Lies these dark lines
That are called scars
I did it once
And thought I'd stop
But then I kept going
And couldn't get enough
Once I was in love,
To the person who I thought, for me, was enough.
He was funny and tall,
Courteous and all.
He makes those crazy jokes,
But gentleman the most.
A smiling face, a laugh, a joke nothing else. But when those feelings of happiness fade away, the friends gone, along with all material possesions held dear, along comes ones true feelings. The hopelessness, the pain. seperated...
We're all the rap-chattle of the world
The odds and ends of broken finger bones
and type-cast surfaces.
Men and women from every walk of life
Welcome here to the ragged masquerade.
You’re afraid
Your stone heart is being pulled away,
This bruised thing you held on to when all else had gone astray
You feel yourself break,
But remember how gray your life was
And even just in one moment
She had to leave me
You could see the grief that my devestated overpowering brown eyes had grew
It all just continued to rip all I knew out of me
I couldn't imagine a life where my words weren't created through a pen.
How am I supposed to change the world if my story isn't heard?
We would all become subjects of a painful world's end.
My story is strange,
It goes on forever
The past is easily forgotten
But it actually never is
The flesh still feels the wounds
The flesh still feels the bubbling happiness
The story of my past, the story of the future is mine.
The story of my sin and where I have been is mine.
The people I have met and the happiness within is to unfold.
