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Literature Text
Don't close your heart
To the world
Even if it's cruel
Don't see emotions
As a sign of weakness
No matter what others say
Don't ignore
The ones in need
Help them instead
Don't think
You have to be tough
To be someone
And before you judge others
For their issues and problems
Remember
Always remember
The burdened hearts
Are the most compassionate ones
To the world
Even if it's cruel
Don't see emotions
As a sign of weakness
No matter what others say
Don't ignore
The ones in need
Help them instead
Don't think
You have to be tough
To be someone
And before you judge others
For their issues and problems
Remember
Always remember
The burdened hearts
Are the most compassionate ones
Literature
letters on leaving.
i wrote my first suicide letter in 10th grade.
they told me it didn't count if you felt like dying
unless you had it down on paper
like a vetoed birth certificate.
i've rewritten it enough times since
to realize i could never leave with a proper goodbye.
goodbye is too heavy a word for paper to hold
and i was never brave enough for the kind of courage it takes to tell them
why.
why they weren't enough to keep me here.
but i'm finally learning a different kind of bravery-
the kind it takes to
stay.
stay.
i learned to wear death
like rope burn my junior year
my senior year we became friends
but i finally stopped cutting the insides of wrist
Literature
love didn't matter, but home was with you
i.
there's still shadows left of you
even with the
little that remains. i wish
sometimes the light
would stop it's singing long enough
for them to grow,
even though
my heart spends enough
time aching when
just the photographs
show their faces.
ii.
you took me
to a wedding once - it was a cold
night, and the
multitude
of stars in the sky made
it seem like God's
breath was reaching out
to earth. i don't remember
the names of the two who
joined together
indefinitely, anymore, not
when the wind's taken
those memories
in it's hold; but i remember crying because
love's just so damn
hard to find, and you
found me instead behind
the rosebush
Literature
My Life Story Isn't A Poem
This is what it feels like to crumble down in a blazing squall.
You are muffled gunshots wrecking yourself in high speed collision with his brass armor. You compress every eruption by choking ashes and swallowing shatter glasses because god forbid you are a frostbitten girl with hitched breath and messed up mascara and god forbid you are explosive and god forbid you crumble down because no, you are an inspiration and you are clenched fist and sculpted chest, you are concrete and you are statue, you are the ice cold dusk and YOU DON
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The world may be dark but our hearts are filled with light 
© 2015 - 2024 GhostOfTheEmptyGrave
Comments47
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I relate a lot with that one.....you have some deep.....simple....but pretty poetries....thank you for share yoru thoughts here on DA