Vulnerable Metal

                                       Instagram: compulsivewriter                                                                I mostly write confessional poetry :)

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A black vampire

Self consuming tube of hate it closes at its black, rubber band ends, it loses its smothering elliptical mystery and becomes oneness, unity of hate and it turns into a circulating nothing else.

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Orange

Brave new, yet same old, egocentric birds in that black sky of yours are as orange as mediterranean sunsets and your face is as pale as ever.

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Brave

They called me brave when they weren’t even there. That is the same as fake promises.

Fake praises are just the same. You weren’t there and you didn’t see that I cried on a bus, under my blanket, while the Sun was hitting my face in a chardonay of blue and gray rain.

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Mountains

A conflict occurs if you run into mountains that you didn’t see on time.

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I know my darkness more than she knows me.

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Personal preference

They rejected me in a poetry competition because my poetry is too literal and my metaphors are too linear. They want my poetry to loosen up  and gain from deeper metaphors, but I think that it boils down  to the personal preference. 

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Body

My body doesn’t feel like home at all. I feel angry at it when it asks me to work out or if it’s hungry while I am focusing and doing something important. I don’t have respect for my body’s needs, but I fulfill them anyway because I know that soon it will get even more irritating.

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Life is a crap in which you have to be sitting.

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This is why

My mother would always buy me clothes too big so I can’t admire and appreciate my body or clothes too skinny, so I don’t feel comfortable in it. She would comment on how I pronounce words and how I speak, so I don’t feel at ease while speaking at all.

I shaked while I spoke in front of my classmates. I would spend two hours in front of a mirror picking the perfect outfit for school.

Now I understand why.

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I am still grieving myself in and out.

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People want only the light parts of you and then they wonder why you’re gone.

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They bullied me into believing that I am worthless.

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Baby, what keeps us together if not sadness?

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The Ally of Broken Hearts

The ally of broken hearts is where there are no lights or beliefs about universe or karma. There are no beliefs about anything, no positivism or misogyny, not even a pure emptiness because that one is peaceful.

Only emptiness that pushes you to rebuild yourself and dozens bottles of anger bottled up under sand, impossible to dig up without growing in the process.

@mypoetryisland

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I could breathe as loud as a hyena And they wouldn't understand I could weep in my bloody traces They still wouldn't understand

They say I'm crazy Trauma means nothing to them Lazy, weak, pathetic Don't speak to me again

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Expendable. That is what you made me be Replacing me with her Even for a night In your case it was four It made to me clear That I am not enough What I love though About us Is A Rebuilding part Of our misery

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Love torn me apart But I am still beautiful No judgement Of this world And my inner pain Connected to my brain No judgement of hurt That goes deeper and deeper I am not judging this pain I will grow And like myself more