"BURNED US DOWN"🦋
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Pinwheels and Dandelions
I was kicked around like trash on the streets. I was the book that nobody could understand or read, but without a care, they were quick to rip out the pages. I screamed for attention, but time after time, I was ignored. Nobody noticed me, so I made myself at home in my own shadow. They say there's light at the end of the tunnel -- I searched and searched for it, but it could never be found. Therefore, I lost hope as I hid in the shade and endured what seemed like everlasting pain. The little hope I did have was snatched from my arms. My baby brother was my life, and they took my glimpse of hope away. Home. Is that a word? Maybe for a family of some kind, but for me, I never had a place to call home. I moved from place to place. Unstable foster care, fighting for my life in group homes, barely surviving in detention centers, and running away from being mistreated as I made many benches my temporary home. The only thing that I was familiar with was a black plastic bag containing my dirty rags. I am too young to know what it feels like to survive. These are the cards life has dealt me and I am not meant to win; however, I easily lose without trying. It is hard for me to find peace. I am paying for my mother's reckless actions. I am trapped in a world where the sun has died because I am unable to feel love. I am unable to dream. Sorrow is my aura, and the sadness hugs me. My eyes are closed shut by the barbed wire fence from my eyelashes as they prohibit tears from falling. I am damaged. When will the morning come? Did the sun put up a fight last night, like I do every single day? If I can survive the day, I know the sun isn't dead. One day, I will awake to a glorious sunrise. Until then, I hope my brother keeps blowing his pinwheel, and I will keep making wishes with every dandelion I come across. For now, all I know is that everything was taken from me, and the only thing I own is my name.Abgeschlossene Geschichte![Millions [Poetry]](https://img.wattpad.com/cover/125886379-256-k161191.jpg)
Millions [Poetry]
a collection of words describing specific pain. my poetry doesn't follow any rules. my style may change but the words remain insane. ✨minimal to no cursing✨depression✨anxiety✨ hopeless romantic babble✨ proceed with caution. 2017-2018Abgeschlossene Geschichte
D R O W N
we want to burn and die to fill the page as delicate words and memories and what we want what we need in life is more poetry and less pain but it's only a glimpse into a forbidden world a beautiful scene sharp to the touch so take your look if you can bear it so take my hand if you will hold it and taste the words ------------------------------------------------------ some rhyme less poetry and mindless murmurings for you to drown in. all of these poems are regrets, things i wish i said to people but never could.Abgeschlossene Geschichte
Yours Truly, Mooncalf
This is a personal documentation through poetry. I am learning to look inward now, give myself love when I least want to. I do not live to love others, I live to love myself. I will find and create what is enough for me, and you will learn to let it be enough for you. 2022Abgeschlossene Geschichte
Your Struggles is What Creates Your Depth
A collection of poetry,and random thoughts written when I was struggling to find my way.Abgeschlossene Geschichte
Submerged (Book 2 Of Breathe)
You tell me it gets better, it gets better in time You say I'll pull myself together, pull it together, you'll be fine Tell me, what the hell do you know? What do you know? Tell me how the hell could you know? How could you know? Till it happens to you, you don't know how it feels, how it feels Till it happens to you, you won't know, it won't be real No, it won't be real, won't know how it feels You tell me hold your head up, hold your head up and be strong 'Cause when you fall you gotta get up, you gotta get up and move on Tell me how the hell could you talk, how could you talk? 'Cause until you walk where I walk, this is no joke Till it happens to you, you don't know how it feels, how it feels Till it happens to you, you won't know, it won't be real (how could you know?) No it won't be real (how could you know?) Won't know how I feel Till your world burns and crashes Till you're at the end, the end of your rope Till you're standing in my shoes I don't wanna hear a thing from you, from you, from you 'Cause you don't know Till it happens to you, you don't know how I feel, how I feel How I feel Till it happens to you, you won't know, it won't be real (how could you know?) No, it won't be real (how could you know?) Won't know how it feels Till it happens to you Happens to you Happens to you Happens to you Happens to you Happens to you (how could you know?) Till it happens to you You won't know how I feelAbgeschlossene Geschichte
Weight of Words
Poetry.. For the broken, misguided, mistreated, abused & sometimes ...in the mood.Abgeschlossene Geschichte
Euphoria x Melancholy
#Rants&poetry An emotional poem & quote book with A melancholic grief, hopelessness and pain An euphoric joy, hopefulness, and magic Dive deep into the oceans of love, romance and loneliness A book where the day meets night and the Melancholy meets Euphoria A book of wisdom where you can discover the emotions and feelings hidden deep within your heart A book where love emerges like the sun at dawn and the moon at dusk A book where hearts connect with each other and beats echoe through time and space forever PS. Some romantic poems aren't all about same person or time. Published on 30 November, 2021 #Poembook #Poetry #Heart-touching #Love #Romantic #Personal #journal #rantbookAbgeschlossene Geschichte
I was kicked around like trash on the streets. I was the book that nobody could understand or read, but without a care, they were quick to rip out the pages. I screamed for attention, but time after time, I was ignored. Nobody noticed me, so I made myself at home in my own shadow. They say there's light at the end of the tunnel -- I searched and searched for it, but it could never be found. Therefore, I lost hope as I hid in the shade and endured what seemed like everlasting pain. The little hope I did have was snatched from my arms. My baby brother was my life, and they took my glimpse of hope away. Home. Is that a word? Maybe for a family of some kind, but for me, I never had a place to call home. I moved from place to place. Unstable foster care, fighting for my life in group homes, barely surviving in detention centers, and running away from being mistreated as I made many benches my temporary home. The only thing that I was familiar with was a black plastic bag containing my dirty rags. I am too young to know what it feels like to survive. These are the cards life has dealt me and I am not meant to win; however, I easily lose without trying. It is hard for me to find peace. I am paying for my mother's reckless actions. I am trapped in a world where the sun has died because I am unable to feel love. I am unable to dream. Sorrow is my aura, and the sadness hugs me. My eyes are closed shut by the barbed wire fence from my eyelashes as they prohibit tears from falling. I am damaged. When will the morning come? Did the sun put up a fight last night, like I do every single day? If I can survive the day, I know the sun isn't dead. One day, I will awake to a glorious sunrise. Until then, I hope my brother keeps blowing his pinwheel, and I will keep making wishes with every dandelion I come across. For now, all I know is that everything was taken from me, and the only thing I own is my name.
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