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Sorelle Jul 30
I built a home in your silence
Hung hope like art in the dark
You watched me drown in your absence
Called it growth while you tore me apart
I begged with hands that bled for you
But you pulled away like I stained your skin
No love left to give
No breath to steal
You left me lit
Watched me peel
Made a ghost and blamed the flame
Now say my name as you feel shame
You carved me
Hollow
Wide
Deep
Then turned your back like pain comes cheap
You call that space?
I call it spit
Fed me fire I won't forget
No love left to give
No skin to save
You left me lit in your quiet grave
Made the mess and left me raw
I'm the scar you can't outdraw
Never flinched while I collapsed
Not a word as my hands unclasped
You left the match and watched me burn
Don't you dare pretend you hurt
No love left to fake
No grace to give
You left me lit
I learned to live
Not for you
Not for them
For the silence you condemned
The fire they swore wasn’t burning
-Sorelle
Sophia Jul 30
My paintings come to life
Springing off the paper
Pulling their self in to the real world
that I pay to escape

dancing around my room
they leap and frolic
before my sleeping face and dormant eyes
my dreams full of colour
felling that my art is with me
Yuzuko Jul 28
I gaze at you every night
as you seem to be my light
You shine in the sky
and refelct in my eyes
your the prefect moon
and I hope to be with you soon
Brighter than the stars
reminds me others have scars
Your the wonder of my heart
Your a peice of art
when I die
I hope that I will rise
and be with you
weather your white or blue
I still look above
as you shine your love
The moon shine for all....
Sophia Jul 27
I sketch my face
The unusual silhouette created by my hair
Whispy pieces blowing in my face
Resting on my chubby cheeks
That do protect my lips graceful arch
My noses flat tip

I fill in the colour
My skin red as I blush
Mixed with my natural warm yellow tones
That hide beneath the surface

I wore no makeup
No foundation or bronzer
No concealer or highlighter
No lip gloss or eyeshadow
Bare skin looking back at me

I paint an image of my face
It does not look the same as the one I Invision
I wonder if I'm a bad artist
Or have never seen my true self before
After death,
I will not be gone—
I will be wind, touching your skin,
I will be silence, deep within.

The body fades, the name dissolves,
But the soul—
The soul returns to the rhythm of stars,
To the breath before beginnings,
To the light that dreams all forms.

There is no end,
Only a door swinging inward.
I become the question and the answer,
The seed, the flame, the sky undone.

I will not speak,
But you will feel me in stillness—
When time pauses,
And your heart remembers
That it too is part of the infinite.

Death is not loss,
But a returning to source.
A merging with the song
That sings through all.

So do not mourn—
I have not vanished.
I have returned to everything.
Salem Jul 22
A small fickle flame, embedded deep in my chest. once a roaring fire now put to rest. by the hands of another. my heart, it now beats, a small brass drumbeat always ready to flee. deafening, dampened, quiet.

a sparrow once flying up high in the sky has now been shot down, it's weakened, it died. but the spirit lives on by the sound in the street and all of the people who danced to the beat.

the sparrow lives on, it breathes, it breathes.
Tilde S S Jul 22
Is that art?
Is it meant to tear me apart?
An art
Art that embodies the heart

For I need a refresh
A way to sample all this mess
Hopefully a way to de-stress
Maybe one day I'll get

Get it all
Get it soon
One day I'll come out of the cocoon
Although it feels like a typhoon
Hitting me
Shifting me

Tearing me into pieces
Pain that I hope ceases
A way to refresh
An out
Completely new flesh
I read a poem on this site that started with "what is art?" and I went from there
CantSeeMe Jul 10
excited I got
looking forward
wouldn't stop
could almost touch
the dream I saw
behave I will
follow the drill

two months to wait
turned with one call
no faith
three years -it changed
older I get
let's see what's left
in 3 years
no drafts
a sketchbook full
of practice deep
sketches weep
still I will follow free
the path
for me

a dream that broke
so much to choke

discrimination it is
but I won't miss
they made a choice
but I have a voice
write it down
with rhyme, not frown
the truth I speak
without a leak
The story behind:

Drawing is kind of the only thing I have some confidence in. Because the only way to become better is practice. And I'm in some really weird world if I draw, I like it that way. You look. And if you really see it, you draw it. That’s how it works.

So when I found a drawing course that focused on really seeing,drawing realistically, cause that's what I like. I got excited. Finally, something where I fit into. Something serious.

But then…
They called my mom.
Said I was too young. 18+ only.
Could have made an exception if I was 17
But no way a 15 year old could come in. They never asked to see my art. Never cared how I draw. Just: “Too young.”
And “the teacher doesn't want you.” So I’m not getting in.

But that's not stopping me :)

This vacation, I’ll practice.
With some silly YouTube videos and some from real professionals, I will try every **** thing until, maybe some year sometime I could get in a class.
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