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[kingjialia]

bend the net of a tennis racket

like you’d tear the lace off of my hips.

without mercy or grace.

if you look close enough, they’re of the same

genre; you can see through them

if you hold them close.

just pure competition.

a round of tennis is child’s play.

A playground game; and so is life to you

private schools,

clout-chasing friends,

preppy baby blue over white collars.

undress and see me with shame.

same feeling when you’d miss the hit.

what would they say if you’d be with me?

i lack the privellege to even be the racket.

at most i’m a fragile, cotton square of lace.

unnoticed and hidden, as you keep me.

break me in a tug. discard and burn after.

says the label quick, forceful!

no love intended.

we play this game behind closed doors.

similar to tennis-a win is guaranteed for you.

like every game you plan to leave with glory;

and you will.

see me in the dark, same as every night,

on that empty tennis court

where none of your friends are watching

and you can keep this piece of lace

that you tore as your reward.

- another poem that i forgot to post. i have drafts of them piling up in my notes.

[kingjialia]

I saw someone talk about the last line of ‘Gnaw’ by alex g implying freedom and just teenagers having fun and forgetting about their problems.

But to me, i see it as a reassuring, fake affirmation in the short run. Compared to the lyrics from the last verse like ‘I won’t tell your mother’ and ‘She won’t ever discover, the things you kept under the covers’ it emphasises a secret that’s being kept. Whether it’s self-harm, a relationship, or something shameful. ‘Please don’t cry’ also imply that the narrative is in a emotionally harmful situation, whatever they’re dealing with. The ‘There is nothing wrong’ feels like a temporary relief to calm the thought of everything going wrong for the narrative, and to maintain calmness with the people around the narrative whom they’re keeping this secret from.

[kingjialia]

the veil will take me once.

it’ll merge with my skin,

the lace will embed my lungs

i’ll close my eyes when it happens

whether through a blood bath of my own:

i would feel my fingertips prune up

i’d finally get rid of this blonde

my ends would stain a dull red

or through a fall:

maybe i’d feel my heart racing when i let go.

maybe the wind would push against fate

trying to usher me back

maybe i’d see the veil way before it covers me,

empty bottles, LED lights.

maybe i’d feel my legs go weak.

i’d know it all, or know none of it at all.

a stab

an injection

an inhalation

or a snap

which medicine will put me to sleep?

will it rock me gently,

or knock me out,

and which do i consider?

[kingjialia]

i am a king, a poet and a soldier all wrapped in a porcelain coating by my own will

pretty, white, and it masks my desires, my deep secrets, and all that mess inside of being all three at once

if blonde and sensual is what they see first i will finally be perfect , like i always wished i would be

to be the muse i would have to cut out my mother tongue, my traditions, my opinions, and my judgements like the walls of a cathedral

keep my words short and neutral, agree to be controlled and restrained. for what’s more perfect than being obedient and ornamental?

ill sew together and suppress the cruel and violent fragments lying down at the bottom of my chest and paint them the same shade of white

my bruises and my scars would have to all be hidden better than i ever have. they would no longer hold a need in this place. in my new temple of purity

i will have to hand over my crown and stand on his right side, letting a man my poet in me can’t love take charge. i’ll watch him see me as a pawn and a mother.

my sword will have to drop, and i will have to impersonate the deers i used to hunt and hurt. soft, minimal, innocent and helpless. i’ll play the part, admiring sharp blades.

and this poem will have to end, for i can’t be the one writing too.

(whoops i was gone a whole year. here’s this little poem i wrote. i have no where to post it and i have about 20 of them so call me sylvia plath ig)

[moonlightbae333]

[kingjialia]

me on a daily basis

[maresiez-deactivated20250708]

[dollevve]

this is my teenage dream ౨ৎ ⋆｡˚

[kingjialia]

me core

[fear-is-truth]