sayona

sayona Jan 2014

pacing

you're pacing in the hollows of my mind like you don't know where you're supposed to be. but it's with me. (you just don't know that yet)

sayona Jan 2014

brick wall.

i keep punching at this brick wall.
and i know,
that i cannot knock it down
with such fragile hands
but that doesn't cease my hands
from striking its surface
cuts and bruises
decorate my hands
spilling out red, crimson fluid
my knuckles are black and blue
and maybe even a little purple
my hands are turning numb
and i'm beginning to lose
all feeling
but i think i may like it
i feel them coming
back to life again
so i strike harder
clenching my fists.
gritting my teeth.
closing my eyes tight
i don't really
see anything now
just a world of
pure and utter darkness
(but i'm not scared)
and i know,
that my efforts are pointless
and that i am hurting myself
way more than i am
making progress
of damaging this wall
even a little
but i keep at it
because after so long
of feeling nothing
i want to feel something
(even if it hurts)

sayona Jan 2014

writing & poetry. it all ties together.

i didn't know the true definition of writing
or that i happened to be good at it
until about 693 days ago
when my teacher asked us
to write an essay
on what we knew about best
and the only words that i could create
from my trembling fingertips
was words of torment
and aching endeavors
i didn't know that i liked poetry
until about 462 days ago
when i found an old book
lying in the corner of my friend's room
and picked it up and started reading it
                Listen to the MUSTN’TS, child,

                  Listen to the DON’TS

                  Listen to the SHOULDN’TS

                  The IMPOSSIBLES, the WON’TS

                   Listen to the NEVER HAVES

                   Then listen close to me—

                    Anything can happen, child,

                    ANYTHING can be

i didn't know that poetry was my outlet
until about 498 days ago
when you slipped in between
the spaces of my fingers like water
and no longer looked at me
like you craved my presence
and ached for my lips
i didn't know that i was in love with poetry
until it held me in its hands
and grieved along side me
when no one else would

is this okay? i fell like it's not..
the italics is a poem by Shel Silverstein. ♥

sayona Jan 2014

my favorite book.

you were like my favorite book
i read you from cover to cover
and adored getting to memorize
all of your words and phrases
i placed cute, little bookmarks
in between the pages
on which i had stopped
and folded the corners of the pages
that were my favorite
and that i wanted to read over again later
i highlighted my utter most favorite quotes
that had tumbled from your lips
(that i admired)
and underlined all the things
that you claimed to hate
but that i
truly cherished
i read in between the lines
of black and white
and figured out your true feelings
when you covered yourself in a mask
and made everyone around you
believe differently
i kept you
and read you over and over
time and time again
simply for my own pleasure
my cat climbed on top of you once
and he rolled over onto his belly
and he started to purr when he saw
just how much you lit up my eyes
and my my smile brighten
but it's kinda sad
really sad actually
that you were my favorite book
because for me
you were a story
that i wanted to cherish
and changed a little every time
i had read it
and i loved it even more
each time i did
but to you,
i was nothing but a line
not even so
merely a word
that went in one ear
and quickly out the other

edited a million times.
i hope it's okay.

sayona Jan 2014

numbers.

i've always been oddly quite good with numbers
but i think i've gotten better since you left
it has now exactly been 489 days
since your awful, agonizing, piercing words
tumbled from out of your lips
and it's been exactly 489 days since you broke my heart
and shattered it into a million insignificant, microscopic pieces
that i'll probably never be able to piece back together.

inspired by pale moonlight. her poetry is great.

sayona Aug 2013

we are more

we're not this worthless piece of a soul floating around
and inhabiting one's body
this body is just something temporary for our souls,
our true beings to occupy for a bit of time
we are more than this ***** filled and flesh covered beings
we are made out to be
we are more than what we think
and what our minds will ever let us to believe
we were all made, and created,
and brought alive for a special purpose
that we may not ever know in our lifetime
we were made to affect, and to change, and to love
and to feel and to think
there's always a little bit more to us
then we could ever imagine or dream
no matter how bright we think we are,
we're always a little bit brighter
no matter how shy we think we are,
we're always a little more outgoing
no matter how heartless we think we are,
we're always a little more loving
no matter how brutal we think we are,
we're always a little more gentle
no matter how much that we think we are worthless
and that we are nothing
and that we are unwanted
and that we're not special or loved
we are
because we're more than that
so much more
we will always be more
and i don't think anyone will ever comprehend their true selves.
because we're just too tragically beautiful
for anyone to ever understand

- S.O.

sayona Aug 2013

i see beauty where others see nothing.

i see the twinkle of hope in your eye
when your body crumbles to the ground
and when your eyes sag a little at the corners
and when you mumble, "I no longer belong here."

i notice how you want help
when you push me away
and reject my hugs
and don't listen to my advice

i feel the warmth and beating of your heart
when you say, "I feel no more."
even when we're miles apart
even when your skin is ice cold

i see beauty where others see nothing

-

— The End —