22.12/17
I want to write a poem to all the lost souls in the street looking for a reason of why something happened the way it did.
I want to write a poem to all the searching ghosts of them who cry themselves to sleep every night.
To all the blood and sweat that was released during their fight through life.
To all the memories and thoughts sounding like: "is there another spirit longing these streets just like me?
Is there another breathing thing that is just surviving? Is there someone else whom will I write a poem that I met later on?"
Yes, there is more of you butterflies.
While she is in those parts of the city wondering and no, not living- surviving ; she could be here with all of you getting high, forgetting.
Forgetting that some aren't loved, some aren't talented, some just have problems no one is listening to.
For some it's easy to forget, for some a little less.
Sometimes she wishes to scream instead she hides her sufferings behind those empty bottles of vodka and empty calories of liquor.
It's so easy to say: "just try."
Oh she's tried, alright?
Tried to look through thousands and thousands of poems trying to find one thing and one thing only!
Empathy, understanding of another locked soul who is also looking for a meaning of all this nonsense!
Her heart is drained it feels like she doesn't have one anymore!
Her eyes are filled with sharp red that is also dried on her wrists but let's skip that part, because let's face it - no one likes to talk about that.
Every poet just likes to hide behind metaphors and no one know that's actually true; "fake smiles"..
Every poetic love story is just a toxic broken glass heart anyway'! So who cares?
True, who really does care?
Another poetic question from "life".
Let's just stop right there! And I can just stop pretending because we all know that I am she. I mean I am her.
I am the poetic girl who wore makeup but doesn't anymore because she doesn't see the purpose in it.
I am the girl that became "that girl" after wanting to be sent free from all the labes of our pathetic society.
I am the girl that went from sweet and innocent to "dyke; fag; lesbo" because she kissed and liked it, god she fucking loved it!
Why? Why when we hurt - we hurt others?
I've been told that our generation is the "depressed, offended generation" - we are, because we don't take a moment focusing on ourselves. We are so scared of being judged that we as butterflies are trying to hide in a cloud bees.
You are beautiful and i am not saying that for the cliché of them before, i am saying it because i mean it. You dont have to see it yet but believe me- every single one of you in this room is do beautiful..
Dont try to blend in. Try to stick out by being you. Trust me. Kiss whom ever you want, dress like whom ever you want and say whats on your mind. Be there for other people but be there for you.
