Dare to create your own magic.
You are probably wondering what brought us both here today. I'm not afraid to tell you, that it was definitely my mind calling you. Yes, MY MIND and like a magnetic pull I reeled you in towards me. This didn't happen on accident, this very moment was planned.
Planned by who, you may be asking yourself and I definitely don't have an answer for that one but I bet whoever or whatever it is, is having a blast inside my dark twisted maze of doors that go nowhere and staircases leading to a dead-end ceiling. My mind automatically assumes its Shaia Lebouf running wild, having the time of his life. I really hope he has fun while he can. Which we all know he will, its fucking Shaia Lebouf. Pshh.
I wonder if he will get lost in there as well. Twice a week I still find myself lost as fuck, with no way out and I created this,- this,- fucked up, really comfy spot I chill in all the time.
I am talking about my mind.
I bet you don't realize the power you have in your hands at this very moment. Think about it for just a second.
You think way too much. Fucking over-thinkers and their over thoughts. Geez.
Now to finish what I was saying before you rudely thought interrupted me. You were needed here today, to read these words because without you, they would remain lonely and unread. Unheard and unsaid.
Only being chirps in the wind.
Don't worry I didn't get it either. 😶
My passion is writing poetry AND can you guess what other type of writing?
Fucking Eulogies but with a comedy twist. Actually I don't necessarily write them but my alter ego who goes by Kiddy Kat writes them and I must say she spits bars. Her backwards snapback becomes her thinking cap in the streets and it gets real. Just like this...
Call me a lyrical eulogist
I be spittin on my haters graves
But believe I'mma still pray
They are at peace finally
Cuz while alive they embodied nothin but ugly
Yellin get better bitch as they lower your coffin
I bet reality really is sinkin in
Lower and lower in the ground
How you gonna try to hate from the other side
And yes I am aware I'm goin to hell
The demon seed of sin and blasphemy Everyone will bow when I arrive
Placing it on top of my head
I'm like the best since asbestos
Don't get confused by my beauty
Or mistake me for being weak
cuz down deep I am the fucking beast
with Sarah and her many different personalities...
Poetry is the most daedal and freeing form of writing, so don't be afraid to free your mind. You can do just approximately anything in a poem, no rules to live by and I do what i want anyways. I don't listen. Ever. If someone indeed does tell me to do or not to do something I'm going to fail that mission, on purpose. I have severe "I do what I fucking want! I'm grown!" Syndrome.
It quite possibly might be contagious because I know I wasn't born with it. I know someone spread their negativity on my shiny plastic positive as fuck ex life I perceived so incorrectly so very long ago. 😑 He was my ex teenage dirt bag boyfriend whom i swore i loved from the second week we made it "official." You know fourteen is such a ignorant and confusing age to find yourself at in life, especially if you find it in a controlling, abusive, and toxic relationship.
Man, No one would of thought in a million years me and that dirt bag of a boyfriend whom I met at fourteen would stay together for nine whole years after that.
When I was little everyone in my family would say I was the smart one out of my brothers, come to find out I really think they were being sarcastic fucks. I am offically labeling myself fully mentally fucking handicap at the age of fourteen thru twenty-two. I shouldn't have been making my own decisions. I needed a helmet, where the fuck was my helmet. Dammit.
Don't bring me back anything else.
If you havent noticed I play on words, words play with me, were kinda friends but not cuz he's mean to me even though he means alot to me.
Words are beautiful and wordplay has became one of my passions. Though I enjoy writing poetry, I wouldn't necessarily call myself a Poet. The word "Poet" seems too simple because to me it's way more complex, just like me. Complexity is kinda my thing cuz if your simple then your probably sitting with fourteen year old me fighting over a unicorn helmet that there is two of and their exactly the same. Exactly.
Adventure time of the mind. The act of letting your mind go on an adventure with a pen and paper. If I could label it or rename it, I would call myself a Professional Wordsmith instead. See, seems way more fitting when said out loud, huh?
Professional Wordsmith. It has no need for explanations. It's just right for the mouth hole to spit out.
Upside of being a Professional Wordsmith?
It helps me cope with all those emotions that I am not sure how to exactly feel or let go of. I hold grudges like no other. I remember that girl from 1st grade who took a bite out of my chocolate chip cookie and I swore to myself that day if I ever happen to cross paths with her it will be hell to pay. Or she just simply doesn't exist at all, it just depends on my mood that day for real, what I'm wearing, and what day of the week it is, of course. I'll ignore her, I'll ignore her real hard. Feelings like anger and regret from not punching that little snotty girl in the nose when I had a chance lingers in my soul. Possibly because I haven't wrote about it yet, the want to hold on to that one grudge was so strong and I just let it out. You got lucky today Pam. Pamela. Pamafer. Whatever. I'm growing as a person. Wow. I still hate you and I wanted that whole cookie! Diabetes!!! Belongs to you. That just slipped out and once it's said I can't take it back. Sorry not sorry.
There are times writing can be frustrating as well. When im not able to put my thought process on paper or writers block hits me for a week straight, I find myself overly stressed. Writing is my sanctuary from life so without it I tend to be very moody (hentz all my different personalities i blame writers block). I guess you could say it has became my crutch, helping me on my path and journey, making things alittle simpler for me. It's become a very important thing in my life and to me it would be a shame to keep it locked away, not sharing it with the world so im starting this blog today to just simply share my writings, my fucked up view of things and situations, my thoughts, my aspirations, my beliefs, just my life period. This is the dosage of Sarahtonin. Get some with the quickness before its empty bitchhh.
Ending this off with one of my poems.
Bemused in dreams of this heart
And tears are few and far apart
But Its a fucking cold world
Especially when your solo and the wind continues to blow
Piercing you all the way down to your soul
Left here, considering if taradiddle tales have ever existed such-like the notebook
The conclusion should have been more depressing
summer romance of ghosts,
Alive as well as exanimated
only revisioned to correspond to all the scar tissue surrounding what keeps me alive
Where Noah leaves the girl with her inhibited thoughts
A place where closures never offered
Feeling erased and disregarded
His memory haunts poor Allie to her core
Until she can not sustain the weight of the pain anymore
Slitting her wrists, calling his name while she bleeds out all over the floor
exactly the spot where they made love once before
Would Noah even try to pause time and modify the story line given the chance somehow?
Sadly time machines are false and we all know time can't be rewritten
So instead he is condemned living with regret; his only partner until the day death comes knocking on his not-so solitary door
amandla
2087
jimmyeatworldofficial
gummygunk
izzy806
pixelskylines