#poems about growing up

[muttparker]

and i cry in the shower and i look at my reflection and i ask “is it going to be okay” and my reflection says “yes but its going to hurt so bad and its going to be a different kind of okay then now” and i will say back “that is good because the okay now makes my head hurt and i dont think its all that good” and then everything will make sense for another while longer, and everything will be okay.

-j

#poetry #im j btw #writers and poets #young poets #poems and quotes #poems about growing up #poems about pain

[mopeysunflower]

I remember the days of childhood, where it was as if God herself opened the sky to mourn her greatest loss. When there were no spaces between the raindrops and it fell so heavy you could feel the weight of her sorrow. Yet in her sorrow, there was also joy. The wonder of the rain, inescapable, her call thunderous to play in the puddles of her tears. To make believe the power a child held in the wind and the water and the darkened sky, clouds rolling swiftly over the dampened canvas of the heavens. To twirl and dance in the fray of the elements, so powerful you could feel it deep in your chest, crying out to the heart pounding behind your bones. What had she lost to cause her such pain? I can't remember a rain like that since I was small. Perhaps she cried for me. Perhaps she cried for all the children who would someday grow to know the pain of age. Perhaps she cried for the children who were still small yet already knew pain far beyond their years. Perhaps she cried because she could see me now. She cried for my struggles, but still she gave me the joy a child needs, to stock up for the long, darkened years ahead where things are less vibrant, less wonderous, less made for dreaming. I may be dreamless now, but I will always remember, and I will thank her for the sorrow she gave as an act of kindness.

Today, I spend my days waiting for the sun. But I try to remember that even when he is beyond the clouds, the rain still watches over me. When I need her, even now that I am grown, she will still bathe me with her tears and make me new, restoring my hope as I continue on my lifelong quest to find the sun. I think maybe, despite the time I spent growing in the darkness, I was made for the light.

— S.R. 3/14/23—

#writing #poetic #poetry #poem #poems #poet #poets on tumblr #writers and poets #writers on tumblr #writerscommunity #prose #prose poetry #prose poem #growing up #growing pains #poems about growing up

[honeyednotes]

festering youth

sometimes there is no cure for the ache but to let it fester

like slivers wedged into the palms of my youth

but I have never been good at leaving a scab to heal, picking and poking incessantly, digging out splinters with tweezers and a knife

my emotions are no different, nothing more than wounds to poke at until they bleed

by Brie Thomson

#poetry #original poetry #published poet #poets on tumblr #original poem #my writing #my poetry #poems about life #poems about pain #growing up #poems about growing up #the tortured poets department #if youre reading this i love you

[august-writing]

"Not I," I said, "I love you."

Yet when blood was on your face I knew you not.

"Would you follow me, my child? Even in the dark?"

But when the light blew dim I fled.

You told me of the future, and of a joy to come 

You loved me and you taught me

"I know your heart, my child."

When you were weak and weary where was I to comfort?

When you cried out for the Father I hid my face.

I saw you. I saw your eyes and anguish.

O how it pierced me. How could I abandon you?

"Not I," I said, "I love you." But how could it be true?

I turned and left my lover.

Weak and twisted is the heart that claimed to live for you

How can it be, how can I live? I wish to love you.

Yet it is a dead heart that saw your face among the crowd.

A light flew across the distance. On the wings of your suffering.

O how it pierced me. My eyes have opened.

I don't deserve to be here, to sing and see the dawn

Lord let me live and love you

How I was meant to all along

#poetry #poem #poems on tumblr #poemblr #easter poem #salt and light #easter thoughts #text #writing #my writing #mini ramble hold on #growing up i heard the concept 'if youd been there youd be in the crowd cursing him and spitting on him' kinda deal often #and not that i think its Wrong exactly. or that it cant be good for meditation. but i don't know if it worked for me #it just really confused me like. but....i know jesus why would i suddenly go Evil...what about the people who knew him...they weren't #what about mary who was crying while everyone else cursed him? #as i got older i realized that i felt myself much more it Peter's place. being one who knew jesus. who loved him. who said you'd follow him #and yet... keeps messing up. so these are just my thoughts on that

[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

[asoftepiloguemylove]

Keaton St. James boyhood // mid90s (2018) dir. Jonah Hill // Keaton St. James pretty boy // Kait Kerrigan & Bree Lowdermilk Miles to Go // แปลรักฉันด้วยใจเธอ I Told Sunset About You / I Promised You the Moon (2020-2021) dir. นฤเบศ กูโน Naruebet Kuno & Tossaphon Riantong // Keaton St. James

#it's wishing i was cis hours #welcome in #on self #on boyhood #on growing up #on childhood #keaton st james #mid90s #mid90s movie #jonah hill #kait kerrigan & bree lowdermilk #miles to go #i told sunset about you #i promised you the moon #naruebet kuno #tossaphon riantong #writing #poem #spilled poetry #spilled ink #dark academia #dark academia poetry #words #dark academia quote #spilled thoughts #poetry #spilled feelings #spilled words

[lesbiansandco]

bury me in childhood joy

they say a little girl died in that primary room,

arms folded tightly,

head bowed,

fidgeting silently.

her long natural hair, a testament to her mother's devotion:

brushing out painful knots

shaping tight braids

shoving sharp bobby pins in to keep it all together.

the itchiest dress you could imagine

but it was oh so beautiful

the scratchy fabric hurt more

as dresses increased in modesty-

modest dresses equaled more fabric

to cover up girls' vulnerable bodies.

that girl had the longest dress

she was modest. she felt like a monster.

"the spirit,"

they said,

"is a still small voice."

and for the first time, the girl recognized a lie.

the spirit was not still. was not small.

it was loud, roaring waves of emotion

that overcame her

and taught her that emotions have depth and range

she was happy. she was sad. she was crying, she was glad.

that child died before she learned the word "impulsive."

the promptings of the spirit were many. they were unpredictable.

the child didn't understand.

why would her leaders lie?

the lesson was forgettable. the message, not so much.

"you must be prepared to die for the church"

"you would rather die than deny your faith,

right?"

the child didn't comprehend martyrdom

but in that moment, she knew she would die a martyr.

and she did.

the child used to love wearing her ctr ring

"choose the right"

so she did.

she chose the right path

her ring rests on that primary chair

blackened with a sharpie and bent out of shape

#mine #writing #poetry #exmo #ex lds #exmormon #ex mormon #spilled ink #found my old ctr ring today #guess what I did to it #lgbtq #<- this was also meant to be a metaphor about growing up afab in the church #idk how well it came through #maybe I'll write another poem sometime #anyway enjoy! it's pretty raw but i like it that way #death imagery tw

[trainingdummyrabbit]

maybe we'll try again next time.

#pikart #projmoon #(LONG TAGS..) i talk a lot about that latter part of poems of a machine but the first chorus never fails to break my heart too #i can never remember what ive talked about and what i havent so ill do it again anyway. #specifically the line 'so here i lie; reading you my poetic stupid rhymes.' especially in conjunction with the very first lyric. #all this built up... mess and madness; concepts of impossible scope and importance for just a few words. #its the desire to express a truth outside of your reach. to tentatively try to identify; to speak; and only managing so much. #clumsy; basic; small; but it still holds a piece of your heart anyway. its not enough; but its real; its tangible; and thus important. #am i making sense? its the first steps into writing poetry / into self expression / into self acceptance / into healing and growing. #and the implication these words are being shared; despite all of this; despite all of Her. augh. #i really do think a lot about th stark difference btwn her Knowledge and her Experience. how she feels she Should function vs how she Does. #knowing how something should be vs how it Is. yknow. #anyway Oops ! Lyric Rambling In The Tags Again ! <33

[oatbugs]

procrastination is starting to have its consequences finally

#on my friends living room floor they love together but one of them has been london for weeks or maybe months #to be with her love. im on a foam mattress from one of their beds next to a glass bottle of water opened by one of them #in a mug given to me by another. the weather felt like my childhood today and it also felt like 2 years ago. #(put space in the heavens Einstein's idea and hes your friend too so nothing to fear) around the table they drank and laughed and i thought #i hope you keep growing so full with the love you receive . i hope your appetite becomes insatiable from how used to it you are #and i know youre all leaving soon but i hope one day you miss this and that youll be happy you miss it #its worth missing i think #i thought he didnt care but he said after exams hes going walk around this area over and over #(this is near where he lived and where we visited almost daily for a year) #(hed come across the bridge on a lake) #we went where she used to live and at the entrance a fox sat calmly. it just yawned and stared. #it felt important somehow. i think maybe their impressions of me will never be close to how i feel inside but i think #i love them enough for that not to matter. i dont think theyll ever know this. i dont think if they did it would change much. #and seeing them smile makes my heart glow anyway. today i tried their malaysian tea the ginger burned my throat #they warmed my heart. hes going to canada soon and hes going to the US soon and shes going everywhere soon ill never understand #how were supposed to live with memories and with seperation and with the past but we do it anyway so i think it doesnt matter much #i wanted to write a poem for the lab rats with the fibre optic wires lit with blue forcing them to turn around and around #something about how im sorry that the two photon arrays burned the inside of your brain. im sorry about the sharp points of multielectrode #arrayes. im sorry about everything we do to you. she asked to see me tomorrow. im trying to have self control but i miss her so awfully #last night my friend talked to me and i updated on everything that happened with love and the lack of it and she just started laughing #and she told me about the same thing from her side. and she told me about how she loved london because she would walk the streets #and she felt like the people were her. and her eyes would go over the people and the bag of bagels and the construction men they probably #have a kid at home maybe shes a daughter. this kid is crying for her mother and the building you just walked past caused #blisters and pain and people died in it and very likely people were born in it. we talked for hours and i felt like #i was holding her hand just like that time she held mine watching a horror film. i love her so much #my friend is a genius and i remember her picking up the charms of my phone and staring at the leaf hanging from them. shes side stepping to #music drinking dangerous cider and cocktails from a movie and chit chatting with billionaires and undergrads #i love her dearly. his head covered in electrodes. she tells me about a syrian guy shes in love with and she says #what you feel and what i feel is like cocaine. ive tried a lot of fucking cocaine. #she says ive reminded her of what living actually feels like and to never put energy into someone who doesnt see me this way.

[coffeexxcigarettes]

Desolate

-

When I was a little girl,

I'd get scared in the night often.

I knew better than to wake my father,

So I found other comforts.

I'd hide away on that ledge,

With my books,

And a small, dim flashlight.

I'd stack my stuffed animals in perfect

Asymmetrical rows,

And if anything didn't go as planned,

Internal chaos ensued.

Now that I'm older,

You'd think I'd be wiser

Than to expect somebody to laugh with me

Through the endless nights.

But alas,

The child inside me thought

She'd have something that felt

A bit safer by now.

As I stood in the doorway,

Listening to you snore,

Fire ripped through me.

Guilt, rage, disappointment, shame.

How pitiful am I

To expect softness

In such a disgraceful world?

I close the door behind me quietly,

And though I am just that lonely little girl again,

She's seething with heat.

At herself,

Her expectations

And the goddamn night.

x

#writing #spilled ink #poets on tumblr #poem #heartbreak #lovesick #mental health #spilled thoughts #sad thoughts #original poem #dark academia #light academia #poetsandwriters #simple poetry #sad poetry #childhood #poems about feelings #prose #prose poetry #growing up #nothing changes #it'll never change #feeling alone #leave me alone #better off alone #expectations #writers on tumblr #writers #sad poem #poetry

[cult-of-the-eye]

Can I stand in the doorway of the bathroom, watching you brush your teeth, haloed by the warm light above you, blocking the darkness from the hallway behind me? Can I lean my head against the wall, knowing all is well in that singular moment? Can you grin at me with rows of tiny crooked teeth, toothpaste smeared over your chin? Can I love you, forever, even if things change?

#poem? idk #maybe #sorry for being sincere on main #emotional about my little sister growing up hours

[muttparker]

do you remember when we stargazed? i was lying on the ground, you were next to me. i hugged you. you were the real star.

#poetry #poems about growing up

[writingfromruins]

Have you heard the story? The story goes:

Everything is hunger to you. Down to your bones, everything is hunger. Your husband starved you in every other way he could, but he left you in the kitchen to make dinner. You don’t know how to stop the rumbling in your soul but your body, at the least, is sated. Your husband likes lamb. He wants it for dinner tonight. You press the weight of your thumb into the most recent bruise and wait for it to stop hurting.

Once there was a man and there was a wife and there was a kitchen.

Lamb for dinner tonight, he says. So small and trusting. Fed well, sheltered. Stress is bad for the meat: when you taste it you can taste fear. So the lamb does not question when the butcher comes. Why would you raise something just to kill it so young? The butcher sells you a leg of lamb, frozen. It is heavy in your arms, so so heavy. You press your thumb into the most recent bruise and it still hurts. Why would you care for something just to kill it? You were devoted and you were devoured for it. Lamb to the slaughter. When your husband presses bruises to your skin they are too familiar to be fearful. When you raise your knife in the kitchen to make dinner, there is no love in the motion of it.

Once there was murderer and a murder weapon and a corpse.

Damn if you’re not hungry though. The only want you can satisfy in great and flavorful abundance. The kitchen is yours, and under your hands meat has fallen away from bone, bone boiled into stock, and years pass as your knife taps against the cutting boards impatiently. Nothing is alive under your knives. You are hungry, so, so hungry. A creature of stomach and teeth. Devout to the only thing that he wont take, devouring , empty and hollow except for your belly, hot with good food and fine wine and bile— he calls to you from the living room for a drink and you pull the lamb out from the freezer and go give him the cold shoulder.

This is how the story goes:

You kill him. You kill him and then you season the leg of lamb with salt, pepper, fresh rosemary cutting slits in the meat so that the garlic seeps in. You arrange the lamb on a tray in the middle of peeled potatoes, so they’ll benefit from the cooking meat, and put them in the oven, with plans to make gravy from the fat drippings. Your husband, cooling in the living room, says nothing. You leave to get the fresh veggies to pair with the meal. How silly to forget them. You take your time. When you bring the men to see the corpse the lamb is done, and you serve it out- it cannot go to waste. Such a good meal, they tell you, bellies full with a transgression, not for the first time. Recognizing something in it, even if they don’t quite place what. You eat too, and are not hungry. No part of you is hungry any more. Down to your bones, you are sated.

playground myths and other formative lies // PD

#poetry #poem #astlr #this ones been stewing (hah) for a while #big thanks to the friend who’s dms i invaded #several times over the course of months to talk about this poem #something about this story really gets me in the part of me #that cant go more than three poems without using hunger as a metaphor #something something cooking as a healing activity #but the healing that needs to be done right now is Murder #but not in like a poison way #no need to ruin good food with it #anyway i first heard this story from toher kids growing up #and didnt see it written down until uears afterwards #which is why the title is Like That

[fr0gg13b413]

@youadans-reverie

#saw it on tt #i have an odd peace about all this #something something calm before the storm #youadan teddy #poems and quotes #media #on living #on moving out #on growing up #on graduating #<3 #[the plan]

[asdfghjklfancat]

I just watched Gravity Falls for the first time recently, and I related so damn hard with Mabel!!!

Part of my response to trauma is age regression and dissociating into my own fantasy world to not have to deal with reality.

Unfortunately, I can't grow and HEAL without working through my traumas. If I can't heal, I will perpetuate the abuse that was done to me. I find myself responding in ways similar to the person who abused me because I am triggered.

I can't stop the cycle of abuse if I don't work on myself. If it was only about me, I wouldn't care about getting better because it's hard, and I'm coping semi-okay without having to put in any work.

I get better because I want meaningful relationships, I want kids, I want to exist with other people fully without having a breakdown because I've been in reality too long.

Mabel cares about the people around her. She might have difficulty with selfishness at times, but she's 12 and doesn't realize it's hurting people until she's already hurt them. She also has the ability to ask for what she needs but sometimes doesn't think about what people might have to give up to meet her needs in the way she is asking.

I am autistic and really relate to that. I try to ask for what I need, but sometimes, I don't consider how that would impact others. I've had people in the past just do what I'm asking and snap when it hurts them because they thought I did it maliciously. I simply did not see it from their perspective.

I've learned to ask if there would be any drawbacks to fulfilling my needs in this way and, if so, how to brainstorm a solution with the people involved.

It doesn't make the times I didn't less hurtful, and it doesn't mean I won't make any more mistakes.

It means I took the truth that I hurt someone and grew from it. It means I didn't want to hurt them by miscommunicating, but I also wasn't going to let them hurt me from the miscommunications.

The solution was never "don't ask for the things you need" it is "there is a better way, you have to keep learning".

To grow up is to learn

To grow up is to make mistakes

To grow up is to change

To grow up isn't to avoid the truth. It's facing the truth and trying to do better for you and others.

The truth is disheartening

The truth is scary

The truth is unfair

The truth can be a problem, and ignoring problems never makes them get better. It only continues to hurt.

It will take a lot of work to heal. I will have times where I question if it's worth it and sink back into old habits. I deserve the chance to try again.

I deserve the belief that I can do different this time, for us.

I can do it for the people I love

I can do it for the people I will love

I can do it for the people I have loved

I can do it for the people I have hurt

I can do it for total strangers whose day might be a little brighter

I can do it for my future self

That is the choice Mabel made that Bill Cipher thought took a will of titanium to choose.

Mabel chose friends. Bill Cipher didn't consider that an option.

Community with others is always an option, you just have to face the truth.

You will be wrong sometimes

You will hurt people

You can choose to apologize

You can choose to change

The truth is in both sides of the story, yours and the person you hurt. You just have to look for it.

#gravity falls #trauma #healing #growth #mabel pines #bill cipher #community with others #truth #choice #hurt #growing up #making mistakes #autism #i can choose friends too #i saw a post about gravity falls and got into my feelings #made it a separate post instead of a reblog to save op from this long post #long post #poem #maybe? #im not a reader or writer so i dont know what this is classified as #poem ish #my husband will be so proud of my media analysis!!!

[trainwrecksys]

Au where Bentham lives and is employed as a horrible peculiar History/English teacher

#got a little personal headcannon in there #it’s that he was obsessed with Wordsworth growing up #And something about his parents #also that poem is included in the British curriculum so #art #mphfpc #fanart #library of souls #myron bentham #the desolations of devils acre #spiral sys art