2.0 | tacenda
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tacenda: things better left unsaid; matters to be passed over in silence
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It's my pleasure to be inviting you to the inside: a compilation of poems I wrote and still do whenever my mind refuses to focus.
It's a stupor-inducing blur, but it's also exhilarating to know that maybe you are worth it after all.
To know that the world is made of not just doom, but also possible happiness and the journey to find yourself, is a beautiful feeling and I sincerely hope everyone can find it within themselves to believe that.
I'll be here to help you along the way. In silence, just reflecting. Maybe you'll find what was always in front of you, just out of reach.
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✿ First Place in The Trickster Awards ✿
✿ First Place in The Authors Books Awards ✿
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beingyourself
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Tacenda (n.) Things better left unsaid; matters to be passed over in silence "My poems were as deep as the heart they were written with. "Poetry is what the heart says when the mouth can't speak." Copyright © RavishingPoet 2018 [Highest In Poetry - #133] [December 16, 2017 - ]Complete
This is a collection of my writing from the past 7 years. Before I started to write, I was a very lost individual, as are most teens, but I was lost in darkness. I was too afraid to move anywhere at all. I hid in the dark, debilitated by my own anxiety, sadnesses, anger, and hopelessness. I was desperate to be loved and feared it the most, I was a coward, I was self-destructive, I would mentally bend my thoughts to the point of bordering insanity. I was born into this world alone, and got too comfortable with it. Maybe I still am, but a fraction of what I used to be. This writing is extremely vulnerable, and potentially disturbing to others, as all my weaknesses, strengths, obsessions with making every moment sentimental, the sickening desperation I've had, the destructiveness, and the constant brutal reconstruction of my mind. Without guidance, it's been absolute intense chaos. Though, there is beauty in the darkness. Everything can be found in the darkness. You'll find that through my writing, I've somehow slowly become exactly what I've written. A living representation of my writing and what I wanted to be. Without myself even knowing it. A lot of my writing themes are based around nature, or some kind of natural aspect. The imagery I paint with natural metaphors is constant, the animals, just like you and I, the plants, and all other living things. I planted these seeds in my mind, unknowingly at the time, where I now feel the deep dark green jungle pressing at the inner walls of my skull. It's all that I want to consume my mind. There's so much to learn. The magic of nature, and it's infinite wisdom. It's as if I have been on this path all along, and I didn't even know what I was doing, yet my body and mind were passively taking care of me. Giving me and eventually showing exactly what I want, and wanted to become. I have every moment, every instance of suffering, and every epiphany to be thankful for. Soon, I'll be at peace from the raging storm.
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