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#healing poem
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Child, oh child,
Am I raising you well?
Do you like it when I wrap you with heavy blankets and soft pillows?
I'm sorry I don't bathe you often enough.
I'm sorry I don't feed you on time.
But, please understand, it was what I used to get in my days.
I love you, though it wasn't something I got.
Is that enough?
For me, it was the only thing lacking.
Voiceless child,
I hear your cries.
I hear your pleas.
I try to help.
Sightless child,
I'll be your eyes.
I'll tell you what is
wrong and right.
Overhearing child,
I'll cover your ears.
So you do not hear
what your father says.
Broken child,
I will love you.
Crying child,
I will hug you.
Lonely child,
I will try,
try to heal you, try to raise you.
Even if you exist
In a mirror only.
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kelleyspoetry · 10 months
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TikTok & IG: @kelleyspoetry 💌
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deeplysincere · 6 days
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“A Ghost in Agony”
In the quiet of night, when stars softly gleam,
Why do souls vanish like a fading dream?
When did it become the norm to depart,
Leaving behind an unanswered heart?
You speak of principles, of virtues held high,
Yet your absence speaks volumes, a silent goodbye.
You claim empathy, vow never to harm,
Yet here I am, left with lingering unease.
When did we come to embrace this painful cycle,
Where love is discarded with minimal pain?
What hidden anguish fuels this retreat,
Leaving kind hearts shattered at your feet?
Perhaps it’s time to embrace the unknown,
To let down your walls, to let love be shown.
Stop running from shadows that lurk in your mind,
For in facing them bravely, solace you’ll find.
Release the grip of the past, and let your heart expand.
In vulnerability lies the power to heal,
Embrace the journey, and let authenticity lead the way.
-NLee
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livalinite · 3 months
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Temporary
One must remember Storms aren't forever The dark skies that flood With tears and unwashed blood Those are only temporary Bits of pain to carry For a soul must feel As that's what it means to be real
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maggielogic · 3 months
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https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/swimming-maggie-daniels/1138541568?ean=9780578831992
The poetry book you need 💌📚💘
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scienceofnoetica · 25 days
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The woman I'm becoming
shines in a dark way
and fantasize even more
then before.
The woman I'm becoming
walks proudly and dress etereal
she founds her peace in
the practical way of living.
The woman I'm becoming
reflects all the good of her
in the world, she is compassionate
and supportive to the other first.
The woman I'm becoming
she'll never be at peace anytime
but now she can master
her own storms.
The woman I'm becoming
she learned the art of diluting
the poison and to use it as a
powerful medicine.
Nadine
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ourburningbridges · 10 months
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Rose Colored Romance
TW: mentions of domestic violence and s/h
all red flags look normal with rose colored glasses… you deserve better.
He knows when to be tender by the swelling of my lips.
Says we’re making love despite the bruising on my hips.
It feels like I’m in heaven every single night we kiss.
But by the day his horrors stay and lets me slit my wrists.
-I.F.L 🥀
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baldgoddese · 1 year
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Hold your waist 🧘🏿‍♀️
(📖: letter to the bold. Ese)
~ese~
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noamnatan · 3 months
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“I wanted to create something beautiful״ is a compilation of poems I wrote about life, growing up, losing my innocence. It’s about friendship breakups, what I thought falling in love would be like. It’s about experiences I’ve had, lessons I’ve learned, and growing up in an abusive house.
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iiraoni · 3 months
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🌿poem: rain I🌿
by Imani-Fatimah
if the sky could make phone calls
would it ask us to defy gravity?
I stare at the sun
blinded by my hope for a soon-to-be memory:
the invisible rope that keeps me here snapping to pieces.
It tethers me to a place where
gunshots come before alibis,
and the truth is uglier than the lie.
Then I’d be there.
In deep gold.
In sunrise.
In everywhere beneath me.
My body,
pushed by a column of air
would shrink into nothing.
I dream of a day where I’m weightless.
the clouds
like a blanket
for the places in my soul,
cold and broken.
I dream of a day where it weighs less.
An answer to this is the rain.
It enters and it departs,
but it changes the way we move even after it’s gone.
We speak softer.
We strain to keep warm.
We shield our eyes,
and we don’t look up.
But if tried,
all of us would be witnesses
to its end.
The bridge between Earth and Heaven shattering.
Glass like semi-colons written
in the humidity.
Like an ellipses for time itself.
The thunder would soon break the silence, being the scream, but before would be the shock.
The waiting.
A pause for breath before God causes us to continue.
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voicesandthoughts · 1 year
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Getting back to myself is the hardest part
Standing to reconstruct my heart from scraps
Running through wardrobes of skeletons and traps
Forgetting to wear them
Stopping, pausing is the hardest part
Walking back into my center to sit and repair
To sit down and paint myself alone again
Get comfy in an uncomfortable chair
telling stories with ghosts around an empty fire
their laughter and tears will stain me for years
and I'd rather pretend that it doesn't remain
bury them deep and lock away the keys
ensuring that they become the fabric of my being
but to do that is to never really know in the mirror, who it is that I'm seeing
torn two ways, a fragile bird in the storms
growing up but watered down
stuck in the crosscurrents, forgetting what it's like to truly feel warmth
Running from these towns
but I need to slow down
perch on the seeds of trees and watch them grow
they will reach the skies I lost for me
I need to find a new flow, capture the city's still glow
Walk slowly, but not in place, until I find myself
Pick up the pieces and rebuild my helm
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abbywants2write · 7 months
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Decay in my veins
Annually
My viscera is shed-
And from it
Grows the seed I’ve sewn
Leaves of psyche
Petals of ego
How many lives
Have I experienced
Within this one
Every day it seems
I’m born again
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crybb-poe · 9 months
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𝒯𝒽 𝑒 𝓂𝑒𝓂𝑜𝓇𝓎 𝒾 𝓈 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝓉𝒽
𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝓅𝒶𝒾𝓃 𝒾𝓉𝓈𝑒𝓁𝒻
𝓉𝑜 𝓀𝑒𝑒𝓅 𝒾𝓉 𝒶𝓁𝒾𝓋𝑒 𝒾𝓈 𝓉𝑜 𝒷𝓊𝓇𝓎 𝒾𝓃 𝑜𝓃𝑒'𝓈 𝓈𝑜𝓇𝓇𝑜𝓌
𝓉𝑜 𝒻𝑒𝑒𝓁 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒹𝑒𝒶𝓁 𝓌𝒾𝓉𝒽 𝓉𝑒𝒶𝓇𝓈 𝒶𝓃𝒹 𝒻𝑒𝒶𝓇
𝓂𝒶𝓎 𝒷𝑒 𝒶 𝓂𝒶𝓏𝑒 𝒾𝓃 𝑜𝓃𝑒'𝓈 𝓂𝒾𝓃𝒹
𝓌𝒽𝑜 𝒸𝒶𝓃 𝑔𝑒𝓉 𝓁𝑜𝓈𝓉
𝒾𝓃 𝓉𝒽𝑜𝓊𝑔𝒽𝓉𝓈 𝓌𝑒 𝒻𝒾𝑔𝒽𝓉
𝓉𝑜 𝓀𝑒𝑒𝓅 𝒾𝓃𝓈𝒾𝒹𝑒
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deeplysincere · 10 days
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Alone she walked, her path her own,
No hand to hold, no voice to phone.
In solitude, she found her strength,
Her journey, her own, at any length.
-NLee
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rheanna-starfall · 1 year
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maggielogic · 3 months
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Dive into SWIMMING for all the feels 📚
https://www.barnesandnoble.com/w/swimming-maggie-daniels/1138541568?ean=9780578831992
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