Steel And Rust

I'm Zelda, 17. She/her. I am here to share my poetry with everyone. I love to write stories and poetry. This is my sanctuary.

[zelda-the-writer]

Life is but a canvas so many colors left to choose and you can learn to be its master or you can be its muse.

[zelda-the-writer]

She burned with an inner fire

that scorched all in its path

but in that heat her love stayed true

never destroyed in her wrath.

[zelda-the-writer]

The sun shines down on her,

and yet she is cold as a winters morn.

Nothing but ice below her skin,

from the sorrows she has borne.

[zelda-the-writer]

You tell me you already know me

and yet you falter when I change

because you realize only then

you don’t know me well as you think

[zelda-the-writer]

I am far past broken

I’m worn down and rough

nothing you do can save me now

it will never be enough

[zelda-the-writer]

She drank in the words of poetry

like she needed them to survive

each verse and line so lovely

they gave her strength to try

[zelda-the-writer]

I'm not proud of me

I don't love who I am

but if I let make me feel less

I'll be damned

I will let no one

bring me down

let me tell you

I will tear you down

I don't have to be proud

to fight for me

because I am real

and it's the least I can be.

[zelda-the-writer]

They tell me don't cry

to hide away how I feel

to put on a mask

I'm not good enough real

To put up a front

and be someone fake

that being sad

will bring me hate

but I love this burden

they call pain

it reminds me that

I am human.

[zelda-the-writer]

The day won't last

soon it'll end

tomorrow will come

over again

a pattern repeating

day after day

but what happens if I

take tomorrow away?

[zelda-the-writer]

Thank you, Mother

I have something I’d like to say

to every mother all

thank you so much for guiding us

picking us up when we fall

but I have to put the spotlight

on one that needs to know

just how much I love her

for helping me grow

Mother if you will

stand and take a bow

you help me out by being you

I wish I could know how

Perhaps one day I’ll be like you

I’ll love as well 

as you can do

But for now

all I will say

Is I appreciate you

every day.

[zelda-the-writer]

Thank you, Teacher

If I were to try to say thanks to you

It would come out sounding awful tame

for the gratitude I feel is one without name

for everything for me that teachers do

The things that they must go through

is in no other profession quite the same

they are underpaid and I am in shame

to know that they are underappreciated too.

They try so hard to do right by us all

and without anger they gently guide 

they help us through so many things 

To help us up each time we fall

I want her to know I know how she tried

and how goodness to the table she brings.

[zelda-the-writer]

Dead Soon

The moonlight dancing 

off the walls

closing in on me

cannot breath

 I suffocate

and soon I’ll 

no longer be

I’m dying now, 

scared and alone.

What happens next? 

I don’t know

Will I make

it out alive?

I hope not.

I’d rather die.

Fading away,

soon I’ll be,

nothing but

a memory.

[zelda-the-writer]

I turned around to see her

but she was already gone

and I was left there to wonder

was she real at all

[zelda-the-writer]

The sky fell and shattered

the day she walked away 

knowing the world would never be the same

and he’d never be okay

[zelda-the-writer]

They broke my wings to stop my escape

the pain so bad they thought I’d break

but when they left then I realized

I can use the claws they left behind.

[zelda-the-writer]

They thought she flew with wings on her feet

they thought nothing would bring her down

so when she fell down from her perch

they stayed and watched her drown

[zelda-the-writer]

They would sit there watching

as she would stumble and fall.

And wondered when they needed help,

why she wasn’t there at all.