The Past Life Poet

| 20- something | lover of tea | feeler of all the feels | empath/highly sensitive person | eating disorder recovery warrior | stigma smasher |

[thepastlifepoet]

I feel a tiredness,

That sleep cannot quell

I feel a sadness,

That happiness refuses to touch

I feel a heartache,

That love cannot heal

I play my cards well,

I would say

Never showing others,

that my hand is

A doozy

Maybe I am

A master of deceit

Deception,

That I never intended to be

Maybe I am

the longer

Of lost dreams

Maybe I am

The architect

Of my own disaster

[thepastlifepoet]

*Maps*

I lay down

my map

next to the experienced sailor

noting that his path was

“better”

than mine

Further

than mine

across more rugged terrain

than mine

I couldn’t help but feel

a twinge of jealousy

Boiling in my soul like a

simmering stew

I asked him

Why is your map

better

than mine

And he said

My map

began like yours

Small steps

in the right direction

Backtracking when I was blown

off course

The key to finding

the right path

Is not

Being perfect

But learning to work

*with* the wind

Shifting your sails

When the wind turns against you

Allowing yourself

to stray off course

With the promise that

You’ll return

Trusting

the journey

and that

Your map

Wherever

It leads

Is only useful in the hands of the navigator

For you cannot

Live your life

Trying to steer

Someone

Else’s ship.

[thepastlifepoet]

I’d like to think of myself as:

A) a pained soul B) a protector of passion C) a peace seeker D) a feeler of feeling tornadoes  E) a prized possession to myself  F) an experiencer of failure G) MVP of picking myself up off the ground 

H) all of the above