Poet without a plan

A list of poetry I have done throughout the years

[poeticvoidlove-blog]

Chaos

I carry death in my pocket, While it sings myself to sleep. Snuggle with my anxiety, Until I fall too deep. Suicide kisses the bruises, Neglectment gave to me. And lies tells me of the beauty, My mirror never let’s me see. Trust broke my heart, While fear tried to glue it shut. And my skin faintly whispered, How it longed for me to cut. Remourse told me that love, Wasn’t meant for me. And rejection stole the lock, But forgot to take the key.

[poeticvoidlove-blog]

Freedom

If I could be born an animal, A butterfly I would be. I would travel each flower, For a human eye to see.

I would carry the pollen, Create beauty all around. You would recognize me by color, And yet not be able to hear my sound. If I could be born an animal, I hope for once they will see. That inside this shell... A human girl was longing to be free.

[poeticvoidlove-blog]

Timeless

Towers made of promises, Dust made of bones. The time has come to tell you, That everything you claimed you owned.... Every thought had been a whisper, Every story has been told before. And the broken glass on the shelf, Are from those not here anymore. You said you worked hard, For the home where your children lived and grew. Yet you bought it from an owner, Who died much to soon. You smile you never will be forgotten, Nobody can take your place, But you are just a number to society,

And in the crowd just a face.

[poeticvoidlove-blog]

Lullabies of lies

I’ve seen days brighten, When a curl spread on your skin. When you believed a sun burned you, From deep within. You sang lullabies of laughter, By the silly words you said. And sometimes the earth shook, With your violent words instead. You whispered love and lies, As if you knew the meaning of every word, Yet you never understood, What I meant with “It hurts.”. You seemed to reconsider, Every hollow song you left to sing, But instead you kept lying, Once more again. You filled books with empty promises, Broken trust and forgotten dreams, Because you rather sing songs of lies, Then listen to the melodies of screams.

[poeticvoidlove-blog]

Writer

She had written words before, Unsure of what they meant, As if they were a reflection, A hidden message she would send. She often listened to stories, That were far greater than her own, And she treasured every single one of them, So she didn’t feel alone. She had written stories, As if Ink ran through her veins, But she knew it wasn’t good enough, Cause all ink will stain. She wanted to become a writer, But every story she had made, Were torn like old letters, So no one could feel her hate. She never finished a story, The reason was very plain, She didn’t believe in happy endings, Cause in the end all ink will stain.

[poeticvoidlove-blog]

Reflection

When I meet a stranger, I see the many things they try to hide. I can see all kind of monsters, They had locked deep inside. It happened many times people thought I was insane, I saw their eyes widen, When I could describe their pain. I saw marks as letters their notes, Written in bright red or bold blue, Mostly it scared them, How I as a stranger could knew. Some called me a mirror showing them what they hide, But they couldn't be more wrong, Cause a mirror never shows your inside.