#micro poetry

[dyst0pianuniic0rn]

A Flower Abloom

You only know the silhouette of me,

A phantom shaped by what you wish to see.

I hide the heavy truth of how I live,

The quiet, broken thoughts I cannot give.

For if you saw the dark where I abide,

The vast dissatisfaction kept inside,

You’d turn away, embittered and dismayed,

To watch a hollow expectation fade.

And so I stay concealed, a closed-up bloom,

A solitary witness to my room.

I drop a petal, share a tiny part,

But keep the thorns protected in my heart.

Yet still, beneath the cold and careful stone,

I dread the thought of opening alone.

I wait in silence, hoping to be found,

By one who’ll stay and hear the whole truth out

[willowflame1996]

Am I too much?

[marmalade31]

Unspoken rules - Flashback Friday

the owl seeks its prey as nature’s creed restores balance tedious moments forgotten omens Flashback – 13 Apr 2022 Unless stated, all featured images are produced by myself with the assistance of AI

Unspoken rules - Flashback Friday

[dyst0pianuniic0rn]

To Mock a Beating Heart

My sufferings are laid bare,

turned into a cruel game for your amusement.

Mock the heavy, uneven rhythm of how I draw my breath,

and laugh at the trembling shadow of the child I used to be—

the one who hid beneath the covers,

paralyzed by a quiet room.

Point your fingers at the day I finally broke down and begged for help,

tracking the salt-stains on my face when I lost my dearest friend.

Go ahead and reduce my entire existence to a punchline;

make me feel detached from my own skin,

as if having a heart makes me hollow.

You view my vulnerability as a fatal flaw,

painting the tapestry of my days as nothing more than a tragic, smoking ruin—

a broken monument to every single thing I have ever dared to love.

[grievinganerror]

AXIOM

[willowflame1996]

Sometimes the data does not support the catastrophe.

[dyst0pianuniic0rn]

17 and Floating

I never rehearsed a future with me in it.

Relationships were a foreign currency;

I only mapped the geometry of my absence—

what my parents would inherit,

which fraction of my ghost my friends would keep.

Once, I memorized them framing a casket.

I traced their grief across my static, blue skin,

wondering if they would hold a hand already turning to clay,

searching for words standard text could never hold.

Yet, here is seventeen.

A milestone arriving like an uninvited guest.

“What a time to be alive,” the chorus echoes,

while I learn the slow, strange leisure

of surviving into an older skin.

Still, the old math haunts the marrow.

The quiet hazard of the box, the looming annual clock,

counting down another birthday I must endure—

a spectrum blurring into the background.

Expired at thirteen, yet walking through the noise.

A hollow vessel navigating the crosswalks,

carrying the weight of a premature epitaph,

perfectly fluent in the art of vanishing.

There is a heavy, velvet current at the edge,

an invitation to stop treading water in the dark.

To let the heavy wool of living sink,

trading the sharp, chaotic friction of the breath

for the clean, permanent symmetry of stone.

Notes : My birthday is in a few hours; I thought to write this.

[dyst0pianuniic0rn]

Alchemy

When my lips part,

the vibrations humming in the hollow of my throat echo outward.

I marvel at the internal alchemy—

How shifting geometries of sound warp and weaveinto language,

Spinning breath into something beautiful.

Notes- I've been really really busy with everything, so here's a short poem