Poetry
Monster
You were never a monster, but a seagull instead. Yet the trash you scattered, fills me with dread. So I learn to recycle, Breaking this cycle, Neither of us need pretend. I found the end of this bend.
inkycapnip
A scream a day keeps the voices away
Poetry
Love
Love is an action, not a concentration spell. My love is for me. It continually sets me free. Love fills my cup spills over. Would it be okay for me to shower you with the excess? My tired heart needs a rest from keeping quiet. Your light, it starts a
Poetry
Caza y Cultiva
Crían a estos hombres como cazadores, cuando tienen que aprender a cultivar. La onda no es obtener una mujer, sino saber cuando es hora de entregar. “Pero siempre me dejan al final!” Entonces no era la indicada, nada más. No le haces bien a nadie estancado en un pasado sin
Poetry
Rage
Beaten Used Bruised Abused Pardon me mother Did I not stutter enough? Soften rough edges so you could stuff a fraction of the action thrust upon me against my will I apologize for being physically ill I won’t trouble you you’ve had your fill these are all my
Poetry
Stop
There’s a door that we unlocked Walls between the self and thoughts Things we abandoned left to rot They’re coming back I cannot stop Mom Please repeat after me Make these strange compulsions cease “you can stop writing. it is okay to prioritize your wellbeing. nothing bad will
Poetry
Touchstarved
This bloody muscle beats too fast Color floods paper thin walls Slowing this drum may cause a collapse Scrambling excuses to stall From freely given to now being earned Steps must be taken I’ve no time to yearn
Poetry
Bestie's reminder
You went up in flames Then you burned your hand This time you just burned the tips of your fingers Maybe next time you’ll figure out the stove is hot
Poetry
Why rush?
Weary feet struggle to carry Where am I trying to go? Wherever I look someone has trod Once more I will try to grow I changed every leaf this time But I still don’t for stay too long Ragged roots reach down deep Burrow into the unseen Mycelial strands
Poetry
Teacher
Most of those who tried to teach me gave up. Failure was heaped onto my shoulders. I was too slow, sometimes too fast. Whatever they said, I could never keep track. I tried to ask questions, confusion deemed wrong. I cannot see words, I only hear song. Oh sanctimonious teacher
Poetry
One was not enough
The name I was given never fit An awkward birthright like shoes too tight Pain in every step A god to demand rather than defend I have three names, all of them chosen Within them I write levels of devotion Inky for the world Amethina for my friends Nova for
Poetry
Oil, bane of my water
You merely adopted the darkness I was born in it Filthy Covered in oil slick A single drop of water in what was once a tall glass Oil keeps it sealed shut Feelings bubble Fit to erupt Movement starts to shake me up Water pushes oil up and out! My
Poetry
Your Son
Two years The evidence of his sins inscribed on my flesh His eyes look over my shoulder Forbidding peaceful rest Two years Panic fuels an endless race in my heart The pressure of his secrets collapses my lungs I had to go to hell to find the button Press restart