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I want to be your number
one, first in yours and my
mind; I know this but not
pure feelings, splintered,
roots overgrown, twisted
and menacing, am I your
perfect little idol, or am I
just a delusion?
Written in 2023, about feelings I still hold.
the need to do more
an insatiable appetite
for a life bigger than
your own, stars in my
eyes. I just want to be
somebody.
It's not even about fame, per se, more about being seen, I guess.
Don't we all want to be somebody, even if only to our loved ones?
thirty years yet still
figuring out myself, I
relish in my strengths and
yet, I cannot face my
failings. when I look inside
the mirror, who do I see?

i'm a self destructive girl

prepared for you to leave,
my deepest insecurity, but
anymore than I can stop time
from pressing on, I cannot
stop the bomb from
ticking.
Sometimes I feel like a broken mirror, with how I distort myself. This is a fresh one, wrote it five minutes ago. Inspired by this song: https://youtu.be/ecRRxehRIDo?si=77_pa4iN42HlHIvx
running in circles
the rat race got
me down, digging
my feet in, jump
I'll get out of this
trench if it's the
last thing I do.
Written in 2023, and I can happily say, I finally managed to get out of that trench. I'm on the surface, where I always belonged.
feeling alone in a crowded
room and then I found you
two people hand and hand
fighting the powers that be
A lone flame become stronger,
you are my one and only, the
light at the end of my tunnel,
and I hope you'll be the
death of me.
thoughts swirling like
lapping water on the
shore, memories
flashing like lightning
there's so much
I want to tell you.
Sometimes it feels like my throat is filled with sand when I go to tell people about myself. It's scary, to be vulnerable.
with light there is darkness,
but in those rainy days, the
moments that are pitch black
no escape from the mind, alone.

I find my voice in the static,
pickup the pen, and I write.
I think this is something many of us can relate to. We all have our writing, even in the darkest days. Wrote in 2023.
daisy colored days
into dark blue nights
I confessed to a
person I thought
I knew, elation to
shattered dreams
took off the mask
and she didn't like
what she saw.
I wrote this in 2023, when a girl I loved left my life forever to pursue her own path, alone. I hope she's doing well these days, but the scar still stings.
elation station
to moody blues
I take it in, breathe
and I reminisce

She pulls at me
but I won't give in;
i'm no longer the stardust
in the night, but a calm
breeze that you barely
notice, and I like it that way.

She wants me to be
the storm, but there's a
child who just wants to
be happy whose whispers
I make out in the static.

I can't pretend I miss you..
...
but I do miss the thought of you.
The "she" in this poem is mania.
I wrote this in 2023, about fighting against my manic states, and finally becoming medicated. I still am, to this day, and I like it a lot better this way.
I swirl the stress, turn
pirouette in my veins.
It is fuel for my fire.
I breathe in, out.
shallow,
yet crisp
the smell of burning
leaves on a brisk
autumn day.


I am the flame,
won't you put
me out?
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