Cy the poet

poetry is my escape, interpret it how you want, I just like sharing. I am also fine with people taking my poems and using them in their art (no matter the form), as long as it's not AI and I am credited.

[cythepoet]

I dream of being a poet,

Sharing my thoughts and feelings,

Through beautiful words and phrases,

But it's so tough when the world is crushing me down...

It's almost as though the world wants me to crash and burn...

Motivation is crashing like old buildings collapse,

Hope leaving like the dead leave earth,

Happiness dying like the people at war.

I wanna be a poet, but I'm stuck here in this helpless world with too many people like me.

With hopes and dreams, but no motivation and skills.

With wars that endlessly damage and rampage through cities and towns.

World peace isn't real, dreams are just as fake.

I wanna be a poet, but I have nothing to make up for my wish.

I lack skills and motivation,

I lack pride and dreams,

Perhaps if I was someone else,

I'd be a better poet.

- Cy

[aprilcatclaw1]

I thought I'd be fine with barely any friends.

I have two.

But lately one I feel has been drifting from me

and I'm not sure I consider him a friend anymore.

I only see him twice or sometimes even once a week.

And my other friend I see every week

but sometimes less.

And our schedules clash so we can't really see each other any more often.

Also

I'm not sure if either of them even want to see me often.

Especially regarding one.

Now I am simply lonely.

I cannot believe I am crying over this when it is my fault.

I cannot socialize properly

so I have no one else.

And that is on me.

And what else is on me?

Revealing so much of myself.

I bet that's the issue.

Me being me.

Or perhaps not.

Perhaps I should just blame the world.

Or them.

Though

that wouldn't be at all fair.

Or reasonable.

So I'll just say it's my fault.

Maybe I was meant to be lonely.

Maybe that's just the world protecting people from me.

Still.

It does hurt.

Even if I don't care about people.

I care that I'm alone now.

Please come back.

I said I never wanted to be my past self ever again

but now I do.

I want to have friends again.

[cythepoet]

You know you've hit a new low when sitting on the bathroom floor next to an old bucket and eating unflavored yogurt that was outside of the fridge for an hour, with a sore throat from screaming, eyes still watering and breathing only through the mouth in between of swallowing the acidy plain yogurt is what's happening right now.

It's like a depth so deep it feels like you can't fall any lower, and your previous experience of anything similar is from five years ago when you nearly stopped being a coward.

But you are still a coward. You both dread it and are happy about it because you're afraid of the moment you stop being a coward and finally commit to it.

Hit one depth, said "it's not too bad."

Hit a deeper depth not an hour later, asked "it can't get worse than it is, right?"

Hit an even deeper depth an hour after that. And wondered how many straws are left to break and if that was just the last one.

All in less than 24 hours. All in less than the worst week of your life up until that point.

Sitting and feeling this relief coming over and gazing towards to the window and wondering "Have I finally stopped being a coward?" Before the tears hit. You're cry, then start laughing at how absurd the entire situation is. You feel like you can't breathe and all you've ever known about yourself and your life is a lie. You have no true friends left, you have no one to love, and if you'll be missed it will only be by family and some people online.

It's so bad that even your favorite ice cream stays half eaten and pushed back into the freezer, because no matter how many bites you take all your feel is nausea and bitterness. And up can blame no one but yourself. You have always been far too dependent on others in their opinion. And maybe they're right, maybe you shouldn't depend on anyone for anything. It's not like you have much to lose now, cut them all off, be all alone, a rose with no stem. Who'll know how long it'll stay blooming or alive. But it's not like they'll see it withering either, right?

One hell of a new low. Still a coward, for now. But wondering when the final goodbye will come.

[cythepoet]

I wish this was a nightmare,

Some large joke,

That would be less painful than everything today.

When I thought I could tell you everything,

You tell me it's through.

Who else do I have now?

We share all the same friends.

And they all probably like you more.

I've known you since I was 12.

I never thought I'd need anyone who knew me as well as you.

Who do I have now?

[cythepoet]

You made me feel like an idiot,

You couldn't even be honest with me.

Heart stabbed from the back and stomach gutted.

Ashamed of myself.

I feel insane.

And the only thing keeping me sane,

Is the fear of dying.

- Cy.

[cythepoet]

Reality is a cosmic joke.

Human existence is merely a joke.

When you gaze in an abyss, it stares back at you, but we all have been gazing at it for far too long. It has consumed us, consumed our existence.

Higher values? What can you value when people in power are destroying everything.

Value your life? Someone out there died, their blood on the hands of people drowning in bodies without a hair of care.

Value fame? What for? The internet is a cesspool of people, not that real life is better. Not that anyone will be remembered in endless destruction.

Believe in a higher being? Why? Would a higher benevolent being let people suffer? Let masses of children die in war? There is nothing higher than us, only people who believe themselves to be gods on earth.

Existence is suffering,

Everyone, everything, everywhere.

There is no future.

There is only one massive punchline to a never ending cycle of a joke.

- Cy.

[cythepoet]

Bleeding out in the snow.

Sword marks in sides,

Cuts on arms.

A piercing sword in chest,

Heart still beating slowly.

Quiet night.

Slow breaths.

Air getting colder and colder,

Or maybe it's me getting colder.

Bright moon.

Beautiful starry sky.

Wolf howl in distance,

World going more quiet,

More dark around the edges,

Time slows down.

Cold.

Dark.

Copper scent in the air.

Quiet,

Finally quiet.

- Cy.

[cythepoet]

Rot is inevitable.

You can't prevent something that is as persistent as life itself.

Rot and life, two sides of the same coin.

Life will try to live no matter how hard or challenging the path is.

Rot will consume no matter how much you try to outrun it.

Rot is everywhere.

In nature.

In buildings.

In technology.

Within you.

Prevention won't stop Rot, it will only push it away for a more.

- Cy.

[cythepoet]

Does art have to be good?

Does it have to be anything?

Does it have to mean something?

What makes it art?

What makes it good?

What gives it meaning?

Is art subjective?

Is art meaningless to others?

- Cy.

[cythepoet]

Rose petals fall,

I know I'll think about you for the last time.

Time will pass,

Distance will heal all wounds.

Rose petals fall,

I know I'll be better once this is over.

Time will pass,

Dark won't last forever.

Flowers bloom over and over,

So can I.

I can bloom over and over,

Get up again and again.

They can grow through any rift,

Spark with motivation and resistance.

- Cy

[cythepoet]

When I try, I'm lazy.

When I don't, I'm lazy.

When I'm drowning in work, I'm lazy.

When I'm not, I'm lazy.

When I'm crying, I'm dumb.

When I'm screaming, I'm annoying.

When I'm silent, I'm weird.

When I'm happy, I'm faking.

When I'm sad, I'm exaggerating.

- Cy

[cythepoet]

Lolita wasn't her name,

It was Dolores.

She wasn't a "nymphet",

She was a kid.

She wasn't sexual,

She was sexualized.

It wasn't love or romance,

It was trauma and horror.

This wasn't just about the book or movies.

- Cy.

[cythepoet]

Rose drained of all colour,

Left rotting on the floor.

Unwanted, not pretty.

Taste of copper,

Corrupting everything,

Destruction coming down.

Lemon squeezing,

Straight into a wound,

Unbound pain blooming.

Colourless rose, copper taste, lemon pain.

Rotting, corrupting, unbound.

- Cy.

[cythepoet]

Fragile ego

Pick a flower,

Pluck it's teeth,

Pull it's thorns,

Make it bleed.

Make it bleed black.

Till the floor is covered,

Slip on it.

Fall.

- Cy

[cythepoet]

Cold blood on the floor.

Cold stare in the mirror.

All those years wasted.

Beauty is long withered.

Chasing it wasn't worth it.

A rose only stays beautiful for so long

It doesn't try changing it though,

Unlike humans.

- Cy

[cythepoet]

Gift me two roses,

Watch them rot in the vase.

Plant me two roses,

Watch them wither in the soil.

Bring two roses to my grave,

Watch them burn in cold flames.

- Cy

[cythepoet]

Roses Bleed Black.

Pure beauty,

Praised by many,

Wanted by even more.

Ever changing,

Never reachable,

Forever fleeting.

Decay always sets in,

Staring in the mirror it's right there.

It's inescapable.

Spreading.

Realization dawns only when it's too late.

It's all wasted now.

- Cy