EARTH (poem)
- Reads 13
- Votes 2
- Parts 1
A poem that I wrote for the sake of plus points at my Creative Writing Class.
Not really a fan of writting.
image: captured at Khublai Gallery. work of Mr. Khublai
All Rights Reserved
Join the largest storytelling communityGet personalized story recommendations, save your favourites to your library, and comment and vote to grow your community.
You may also like
The Days With No Sun
Sometimes we fear truth over reality. But things get dark and heavy and we play the blame game. We end up hurting others or ourselves even. We don't think before we act or we don't say before we do. This is the evolution of my madness. A cluster of rants and thoughts and poems for you guys. Everything is written how I wanted it to be rants will be long with few pauses and there will be mistakes I might have skipped over. Aha. Poems at the beginning from when I was 15 years old to now when Im 18. Truly a visual of my writing evolution. Edited by @ChemicalStarling who writes a lot but never posts! Read on, loves. I'll see you on the other side...Complete
Release
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.Complete
Snowflakes (King Dice x Depressed! Reader) OLD
JUST GONNA SAY IT NOW THAT THIS HAS A LOT OF SUICIDAL AND MATURE THEMES. Cover by me :)) (Me: Lets try something new) (Everyone else: NO GOD PLEASE NO) Empty. All you feel is Empty. The sparkle of life was dead. Your parents are forcing you to marry someone you don't love. All hell broke loose after that fateful day. When Charlie, Your Sister, died,Now you're considering killing yourself. One night, after you storm out of your parent's house after a family dinner by your control freak parents, you collapse in the middle of a snowstorm by the arctic temperatures of outside. Before you black out you feel a warmth pulling you close. What is this mysterious warmth? Read to find out. ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡•ʔ•̫͡•ʔʕ•̫͡•ʕ•̫͡• "You're a Snowflake,"Complete
Project Heaven
Poems about grieving, hurting and crying. Poems about love, life and death. Poems about the demons lurking in the back of my mind. Poems to free myself from my own shackles. Poems again and again until I have nothing else to say. Poems again and again until I don't have the strength to live anymore. --------- TW: death, suicide, self-harm, grief It's poems I write about myself, so please be respectful. This book is a part of my history. I hope to raise awareness and help people while sharing this work. Highest Ranks • 42 in #poesia • 22 in #paradox 40 in #selfhelp
Beneath The Light of a Dying Star
In these pages, the world is both light and heavy-sometimes in the same breath. This is a catch-call collection of my own poetry, prose and/or lyrics that I've accumulated over the years that I related to and enjoyed writing and re-writing. I don't know, I just hope you enjoy them or find some comfort in them as well. :) Also, possibly relevant, I'm queer, autistic/adhd and very traumatized so if you relate, you might, like idk, relate to these maybe or they may be a little too real??
𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬 | 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐝
𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐫𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐧 𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐞𝐬 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐨𝐥𝐝 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐲 ♡Complete
My Poetry Escape
I may just be a girl. No one special. Nothing compared to others. In the eyes of the universe, I am just a little speck of dust. My light may not shine very bright, and it may not be of any use, but I am me. Writing is my only escape out of this world. I cry rivers of ink and climb mountains of words. I may not write as well as others, but my writing is just a different style. They're my feelings. I really do hope you can connect to some of the work in here. Please, do not copy any of this work without informing me first. Thank you! "My Escape" I have a supply, In the closet near my bed, Of past memories, Hanging by a thread. A thread, Connected to my mind, That thread, Just follows me around. I have a hole, In the middle of my heart, That hole fills up, When someone's torn apart. I have a tear, Accompanying my lonely eye, Knowing, whenever I'm alone, I can sit in a corner and cry. Even though, These things are there, I still have ink, a notebook, and a pen, To care. I write and write, To my heart's desire, New feelings erupt, By the hour. Writing is, My one escape, In this cruel and careless world, I have the power, to awake. "A Story Without Words" A story told, In a little tune, A golden smile, And a shining tear, Rolling down my cheek. A little breeze, The nice sun, A marvelous day, Turned into a wet one. The memories dripped, Down on my cotton white shirt, Leaving stains, On my malicious heart. Your smile, Worth a thousand words, Can't cheer up This depressive mind. A storm bewildered, Your indecisive mind, Drowning me, In my reckless thoughts. A rainy day, A gleaming lie, A story not told, With words Nor sounds. This story is, But a mere thought, In this universe We share, Every night. This story is, A withering storm, Drifting off, In this careless soul. This story is, Not told with sounds, But a never ending blow, Of swirling emotions, Bottled up inside.Complete
My Personal Deity
Dark Poetry TW for suicidal thoughts/actionsComplete
Sometimes we fear truth over reality. But things get dark and heavy and we play the blame game. We end up hurting others or ourselves even. We don't think before we act or we don't say before we do. This is the evolution of my madness. A cluster of rants and thoughts and poems for you guys. Everything is written how I wanted it to be rants will be long with few pauses and there will be mistakes I might have skipped over. Aha. Poems at the beginning from when I was 15 years old to now when Im 18. Truly a visual of my writing evolution. Edited by @ChemicalStarling who writes a lot but never posts! Read on, loves. I'll see you on the other side...
More detailsContent Guidelines