Poetry Poetry

  • Thread starter Thread starter Lupine
  • Start date Start date
Mirror

The mirror knows the truth you hide
A lonely soul with nowhere to confide
Because the world you built inside your mind
Left everything that mattered far behind

Reality is cold. It cuts. It scars.
It doesn't care about your stars
But pain is honest dreams deceive
They promise more than they can ever give

So let the fantasy decay
Watch every false illusion fade away
It's better to bleed beneath the truth's harsh light
Than spend your life asleep inside the night

For freedom isn't found in pretending you're whole
It's born the moment you reclaim your soul
 
There is this void
I don't know how to fill it
Maybe I can't
It is likely
I don't even want to.

I won't fall in it,
I'm certainly not going to jump either.
I can look in another direction,
But its there,
It won't go away.

Every now and then
I get closer to the edge.
I have a look,
It's vast and beautiful
It feels like it will pull me in...

But eventually I smile
And turn my back.
This void is part of me.
And I'll learn to live with it.
 
Slopps said:
There is this void
I don't know how to fill it
Maybe I can't
It is likely
I don't even want to.

I won't fall in it,
I'm certainly not going to jump either.
I can look in another direction,
But its there,
It won't go away.

Every now and then
I get closer to the edge.
I have a look,
It's vast and beautiful
It feels like it will pull me in...

But eventually I smile
And turn my back.
This void is part of me.
And I'll learn to live with it.
Click to expand...
Look at you being all deep and stuff.

Nicely written.
 
the daughter who carries everything - poem by hailey wood

“i’m an eldest daughter
which means i am the chair my mother sits in when she
cries about my father

i’m an eldest daughter
which means i am the room my brother walks into when
he has done something wrong

i’m an eldest daughter
which means i am the small office my sister visits
between her classes
to tell me about the grade
to tell me about the friend who was unkind

i’m an eldest daughter
which means i have a list on the back of the bedroom door
of what i am not allowed to do

do not stay out past nine
do not raise your voice
do not laugh too loud in front of the relatives
do not embarrass the family

and i’m an eldest daughter
which means i have another list
the one i learned

do not cry where they can see you
do not say you are tired
do not be a daughter who needs anything

i have a small bowl by the front door
where everyone in this house
drops their keys
their loose coins
their wedding rings before they wash dishes
their small angers from the day

and i am the bowl
i am the bowl

and nobody ever empties me out.”
 
An outstretched hand

There is a girl who learned too young that love sometimes leaves.

She stands in doorways, changing more than clothes, trying to become someone easier to keep.

She learns to speak carefully. To wait quietly. To ask softly. To need less.

Still, she reaches.

Years pass.

She is older now, but when someone she loves takes a step back, the little girl in her still steps forward. Still aches.

Her hand finds the empty space before she even knows she's moving.

She waits. Like she always did.

Not because she is weak.

Because once, someone she needed didn't come back when she needed him most.

Didn't see or acknowledge her presence or heart.

Sometimes, they return.

A smile. A few words. Fleeting warmth.

Enough to remind her what being reached for feels like.

But silence returns.

And still her hand remains outstretched, growing heavier with every day.

If you meet her there, don't ask why she hasn't walked away.

Sit beside her, for her heart is heavy.

Hold the hand she keeps offering to others.

Tell her gently. Hold her softly. Tell her she was always worth reaching back for.
 
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