#childhood poetry

[nomorekillingbutterflies]

this is it? is this what growing up is all about? we pass joy around in a bottle of cheap wine for one last time. I know, everyone is constantly changing and the earth is spinning and eventually everything happens just like it’s supposed to. but if my car were to crash on my way back to the city I call my new home, I wouldn’t be angry. my mom buys herself flowers now and I think that’s a good thing. she also keeps my scissors in a different shelf. and the tree in our backyard is gone. you never know when it’s the last time. is growing up nothing more than feeling younger than you are and leaving all the things you love so dearly behind?

-e.f

#excerpts of a book i will never write #original poem #poems and quotes #poetry #prose poetry #spilled poetry #poetic #poems on tumblr #sad poetry #poetry about growing up #growing up #spilled ink #writer #596 #poetry blog #childhood poetry #adulthood #moving out #short poetry #writerscreed #creative writing #prose #poetry book #author

[samvents]

[ID text— not yet corpses. Still, we rot]

#sam posts #source: pinterest #quote #actuallytraumatized #traumacore #actuallyptsd #ventcore #actually ptsd #childhood trauma #trauma #childhood ptsd #vent post #childhood poetry

[hayatheauthor]

A child who is unloved treats the world one of two ways.

There are the ones who project their situation onto others, and treat the people around them as they were treated.

Then there are the ones who make it their responsibility to heal the hearts of those around them. The ones who love the unloveable, for they would never doom another to a fate like theirs.

But the thing is, neither of them are wrong.

For our hearts are so different from each other's. Just like our minds and bodies.

And a child cannot be blamed for how they make their heart heal. 

#tbh just mha rambles #but it's also about the characters from my wip #if only i could be this eloquent while saying the same thing to agents and explaining my character dynamics #how the protag and antagonist are so similar and come from same situations but their mindset and outlook of the world changes everything #haya sameer #hayatheauthor #haya: writes #childhood trauma #childhood depression #childhood poetry #emotional trauma #emotional abandonment

[softsweetwhispers]

There is a subtle, cinnamomy smell in the air.

The granite counter is smooth beneath my fingers, cold rock even colder because of the autumn air. My finger absent mindedly runs the trail of a crack from years ago tracing from the top left corner of the surface to the center. I still remember the day it happened as vividly as when it happened - after the company installed it wrong, the image of my mother rightfully pissed off yelling into a phone while waving dramatically through the screen window was one I'd giggle at for years to come. It was a time before the food truck, when everything was unstable and dangerously reckless, when everything me and my mother had built shook violently. She took a terrifying time and turned it into something fond.

The neighboring sense of sweet pumpkin pie and grilled squash are carried by the wind, which whistles softly in a tune that sounds like a memory. I can see us: me, laying in bed feeling nothing but waves of nausea and the mucus in my throat, and my mother, with her first gray hair and kind hands and soft lullaby.

It smells like buried treasure and home, a smell that clings to my mother like a weighted blanket. Her apple cider bubbles on the stove, a mix of cinnamon and nostalgia together in a pot. It's her apple cider - ten time winner of the town's annual best cider contest. Nothing, not the families who ordered an abundance, not the kids whose face is lit up at the magical taste, or the way it seemed to bring a whole community together, could beat the time and effort my mother put into making each bite special.

I can hear her humming the tube now, back to me as her fingers carefully pull pie dough, fingers taking care where others' wouldn't. She has more than one gray hair now and doesn't much have the energy for yelling so animatedly, but the Greek warrior strength she conjures into her spine is something I wish I deserved to wear.

My mother is made of steel; apple cider will always smell like home; these are truths I'll always know.

| k. - @nosebleedclub v. apple cider

#drawn from the life around me #musings of moments in a life that comes of and brings nothing signficant #the nosebleed club & its inspirations #original writing #writing #prose piece #poetry #original poetry #writing prompt #story prompt #original story #soft poetry #prose poetry #on mothers #childhood memories #childhood poetry #writeblr #female writers #writers on tumblr #writers and poets #short story #original prose

[unknown-wizard-poetry]

7

TRIGGER WARNING

7

Looking through the bathroom mirror,

Standing on their tippy-toes

A child, no older than 7, staring at their reflection.

But this child is unlike any other.

This child has maggots in their brain.

...

The child watches themself, counting imperfections.

Picking apart the shattered face of a lonely porcelain doll.

…

The maggots wriggle deep within the wrinkles and folds.

They whisper, so quietly,

Yet no one would bother to listen.

You wouldn’t be so ugly if you were dead.

...

The child looks into their little doe eyes,

Too somber to listen,

Too young to understand.

#sad poem #sad thoughts #depression poetry #my poem #poem #original poem #original poetry #original poets on tumblr #poems on tumblr #poetic #poems and poetry #writers and poets #poets on tumblr #childhood poetry

[scrambleofwords]

And then you realise, somewhere down the line, that you’re a woman now. And all the time you spent running from adolescence hits you straight in the chest, a shallow dagger of childhood that tears straight through your ribs, the type of pain only a hug would fix; a giggle at your simple understanding of the world, the warmth of someone holding your hand, or gripping your knees as you parade around on their shoulders. You’re much too tall for that, now.

‘What happened?’ You know the answer, it’s a simple one, it’s always been the same. ‘You grew up.’ And it still stings every time you hear it.

You realise that as the old willow trees became rotting logs and no longer branches of your imaginary home, the stuffed animals you gathered as friends lay as strangers under a big girls bed, that when your teeth straightened out to fit your jaw, nobody grinned like they used to.

#poetry #poetry fragments #girlhood #poetblr #poems and poetry #childhood #childhood poetry #spilled ink

[charzeewrites]

Conversations

And some nights I'm laying in a field.

It's night,

My younger self lays in the grass besides me.

"I'm sorry." I say out loud.

"Why?" She whispers back.

"Look at what I've become. I failed us." A tear rolls down my face into the grass.

"You didn't fail us. You strayed from the path. You fell and made some mistakes. But you can still get up. You're not a failure." She doesn't look at me as she speaks, instead she continues to look at the stars while picking up strands of grass.

"Oh." I'm quiet for a moment. "I guess I never thought about it like that."

"Yea, but that's what I'm for." She smiles.

I'm not a kid anymore.

But it's important to remember to love myself like I did as a child.

Back when the world didn't feel like it was ending.

#original poem #poem #poetry #poets on tumblr #quick write #free write #original writing #writing #queer poetry #queer poets #childhood #inner child #inner child poetry #childhood poetry #I scream and beg to be a child again

[icanonlyblamemyself]

#something something trying to learn to get over it but. its so hard !! #words #november poem #poem #[11/06/22 - 5:49 PM] #childhood trauma #childhood #childhood poetry #poetryblr #vent poetry #poetry #my poem #writers and poets #black and white #vent art #vent post #poetry prose #november poetry

[sophieeeikli]

Just found this journal with old poetry from when I was about 11. If anyone was wondering, poetry really does need practice...

(ID in Alt)

#spilled ink #poetry #childhood poetry #my words #tw animal death

[poetry-no-one-asked-for]

You raised us from coals of the house fire that was your life.

But you never realized the fire that left you scared now sat behind your eyes.

You know the pain of the white hot brand, no one may deny that.

But you also never realized, one shouldn’t be in your hand either.

You have carried the logs of the old house on your back a modern day atlas.

But that didn’t stop you from giving them to Hercules when his naïveté was still forming; and unlike him we were unable to understand the burden of those cinders.

You have lived of life of sacrifice, I can’t begin to delve into the forest fire of your life.

But it never should have been passed, for now my hands like yours are blackened from charcoal, the brand though not as deep still stains my arms,

You lived a life of fire and charcoal and rather than use it to warmth those who suffered you let it burn the pyre of future relationships.

Now it is too late, and the fires have spread to the garden, that once housed fields of lilac.

You have lived a life of flames and have passed the torch again.

#poetry #poems #my poem #original poem #original poetry #poetic #poet of tumblr #poets on tumblr #life poems #childhood poetry

[kyvl]

The Snow Globe

Did I tell you about that day? The day when my life fell to pieces Shattered on the ground at my feet I had dropped it The snow globe I was young But not so young as to not understand That I had made a mistake I was not gentle with something fragile As fragile as my life was I should have known better I had learned this years ago I wept over the fragmented glass shards My mother told me it was not a big deal She ushered me out of the room She cleaned up the glass And everything was fine But now my mother isn't here To usher me out of the room And clean up the shards Sweep them into a dustpan And put them in the trash And tell me it's not a big deal And everything is alright I should have known better Than to handle something so fragile As fragile as my life was With blatant disregard For its fragility And now I'm telling you About the snow globe About my life

#poem #poet #original poem #prose #my poetry #poetry #poems #poems on tumblr #sad poem #sad poetry #poetry about life #life #childhood #childhood poetry #poems about life #loss #rejection #grief #dealing with grief #dealing with loss #dealing with rejection #coping #copium #coping through poetry #coping with rejection

[nomorekillingbutterflies]

what are we going to do now?

with all this wasted love, I mean. we can continue being backseat lovers, continue watching the night sky and wishing for better times to lie ahead of us. are we going to consist of more than formidable conversations between shadows and seasonal kisses? whatever we’ll be, I will always look at the stars, desperately hoping to find a piece of me and you within them. and I will never stop holding my breath out of fear that when I exhale, a little bit of your love could leave. maybe next time, all drunk and sentimental, I will confess how I’ve seen all the planets and stars but still, the definition of beauty is you, my love.

- e.f

#excerpts of a book i will never write #original poem #poems and quotes #prose poetry #short poem #spilled poetry #love poem #poetry #poetic #spilled ink #heartbreak #sad poetry #love #childhood poetry #love poem for him #poems on tumblr #poem about love #author #writerscreed

[samvents]

[ID text— some day you will ache like I ache]

#sam posts #source: pinterest #quote #childhood trauma #childhood ptsd #traumacore #trauma #actually ptsd #actuallyptsd #actuallytraumatized #ventcore #childhood poetry #vent post #trauma vent

[hayatheauthor]

When I was a kid I used to hate being compared to my sisters. I used to think it meant that people only saw me as a second version of them.

But now I feel so silly for thinking that way. Because I realised I have parts of them just as they have parts of me.

They are the ones that taught me it was okay to be myself because I saw them be that way.

They taught me to accept myself and helped me grow into who I am.

Some of us are so awfully alike. And some of us are so different but have small similarities others won't notice. And that's okay.

Because the parts that we hold of each other is a testimony to our love and childhood bond.

It doesn't mean that I'm a second them. It means I hold parts of their personality that helped me form myself. It means I am their younger sister.

#sisterhood #growing up with sisters #older sister #younger sister #haya sameer #haya: writes #spilled poetry #poetry #female poets #childhood poetry #emotional poetry #nostalgic #family poem #poetry on tumblr #poetry on life #poetry on main #writing community #creative writing #bullet poetry #hayatheauthor

[softsweetwhispers]

it's a DOOMED VOYAGE & i wish MORE THAN ANYTHING i could raise you like the dead & put you back where you belong. at the MEMORIAL, there was a person who gave a speech, run-on sentence after run-on sentence that didn't really make sense in context. like you were just another tragic end, not like you really anybody to anybody. i resent you for leaving me, even though it wasn't really your DECISION. i resent you for leaving me on this DOOMED VOYAGE, for me to scramble up through the sirens and misty rocks and freezing waters by myself, with nothing but the pastor's droning voice and my wish of MORE THAN ANYTHING's.

| k. - @nosebleedclub feb. xxv. decision - xxviii. memorial

#anyway mom is dead but sometimes i wonder what she be like if i brought her back and put her where she belongs #also this isnt ... great but what can you do #the nosebleed club & its inspirations #musings of moments in a life that comes of and brings nothing signficant #original writing #original poetry #poetry #writing prompt #story prompt #original story #love poem #soft poetry #prose piece #writing #dead mom #dead parents #childhood trauma #childhood memories #childhood poetry #childhood #vent post #vent poetry #vent art #memories #poetry prompts #prose poem #original prose #sad writing #trauma poem #poems about trauma

[metanein]

I see time never stopping more than I feel it. I see it in the way I grow more into my own skin, my smile lines becoming more prominent, wrinkles around my eyes and on my forehead. I see it in the way I'm talked to more seriously, constantly asked questions about my future. I see it in pictures of myself, that weren't just a day ago, but instead years ago. I remember my 8th birthday like it was just a few months ago, but I'm not 8 anymore, I haven't been 8 in far too long. And as another birthday creeps closer, I feel my heart get heavier, another year having gone by without me feeling it.

#original poem #poems and poetry #poems on tumblr #poetry #literature #poem #sad poem #sad poetry #sad thoughts #time #childhood #childhood poetry #original #original poetry #my poem #life poetry #life poems #alone with my thoughts #thoughts #late night thoughts