My poetic soul

This is the post excerpt.


Deep lines of age can be hard to draw. Let’s explore our souls. 




I  feel like a flower.
but I never said I feel pretty,
or colorful,
like those flowers,
yellow on a field,
or in the bushes,
swaying peacefully in the wind.
I feel like the flower,
that you step on,
because you don’t think it’s pretty enough,
to pick up.

A tale about me 

Sometimes I feel like I’m drowning in my own tears

Thinking of all my inecurities and fears

I can hardly see the beauty in me at all

All i see is the flaws

But you look at me in a different way

You don’t look at my body, my hair or my so called pretty face

But you see the beauty within

The beauty i considered a sin

I thought that being yourself was wrong doing

I didn’t realize that was something i should’ve been doing

I denied my own identity for so long

I didn’t even realize it was wrong

I thought that as long as i had a smile on my face

I would be able to make it happily through the day

Many nights i cried myself to sleep

i covered my mouth to make sure no one could hear a peep

I would wake up the next morning with bloodshot eyes

and bleeding cuts on my thighs

I thought that would make the pain inside escape with the blood dripping down my leg

Instead the pain and suicidal thoughts stayed in my head

But in the midst of all of that i would count to ten

And realize God still saw the beauty within


The perfect girl,

That’s what everyone saw.

The one that everyone knew.

The girl without a flaw.

But when she looked in the mirror,

She hid behind a facade.

All the scars on her wrists,

Showed a secret bond.

Her escape from reality,

Was her only escape at all.

She had a head full of thoughts,

But her dreams were so small.

She had a brilliant fake smile,

no one knew she wasn’t okay.

She hid her tears well,

Until she didn’t show for school the next day.

People thought she was sick,

Maybe a cough or a cold.

Nobody was prepared

For what they were told.

That perfect girl,

That everyone knew

Had died the last night,

Overdosing by two.

People looked around,

Barely hearing the news.

How could that perfect girl

Been so emotionally bruised?

They held the hand of doubt,

Hoping that she’d walk in.

Until the announcements came on,

With a voice that was so thin.

Close to tears,

The voice confirmed her death.

The thought of never seeing her again,

Took everyone’s breath.

The perfect girl,

That everyone saw,

Finally gave up the fight,

Threw away it all.


Who are you they ask?
Why bother asking if you are going to tell me anyways.
You’re beautiful, smart, bright and happy;
More lies..
All lies..
They do not know me.
I am a mess.
Hard to pick up, hard to fix, hard to love.
I am a shadow.
Empty walls, Empty eyes, empty heart.
I was fighting a war that no one could see.
Can you tell? Can you see them? Can you feel them?
Scars & Bruises.
“Are you okay?”
I am fine.
I tried to fly..
Fly away from the demons inside of me;
Instead I started to fall,
I kept falling..
until there was nothing left of me.
I ended up in pieces.. I ended up broken.
I promised I would stay.
I tried.
I wanted to be seen. I wanted to be heard. I wanted to be alive.
Now it’s all gone. I’m gone.

I’m sorry I’m selfish. 

“ I know, you think my generation doesn’t give two fucks about anyone else but themselves. but honestly why should we. everyone we loved left us for someone better, someone with longer legs or bigger bank balances. everyone we respected disappointed us by weaving us in a myriad of lies. everyone we idolised betrayed us. in a generation where everyone is letting everyone down, everyone is too stressed or too anxious, do you except us to care about other people. do you expect us to protect people from drowning when we dont even know how to swim. do you expect us to save lives when we want to end our own. do you expect us to love when our own hearts have been shattered into pieces. do you actually except us to give fucks about anyone but ourselves.”



Have you ever wanted to be loved?“ He asks me, attempting to make eye contact with me, but I look away.

“Yes,” I reply.

“Then why did you run from it?”

I sigh, “It’s one of those feelings.”

Confused, he questions what I mean.

“One of those feelings where you’re running from the boy you like in a game of tag on the playground back in class three. Where you’re running, giggling like the small child you are, but you want to stop. You want to stop running to see what would happen if he caught up to you, but you know you’d lose the game if you slowed, so your legs continue moving.”

I look at my hands, still avoiding his eye contact.

“I wanted to stop,” I whisper, “I wanted to stop running just to see what would happen if love caught up to me, but my instincts told me someone was chasing me, so I only sped up. I didn’t want to lose the game of tag.



I prepared myself. I prepared myself for you to walk away. I prepared myself for you to leave. I prepared myself for heartbreak. I prepared myself for what it’d feel like when you didn’t text me for days. I prepared myself for the feeling I’d get when seeing you love somebody else. I prepared myself to be able to fake a smile when you asked how I was doing. I prepared myself to pick up the pieces of my broken heart without your help. I prepared myself, and yet, here I am, curled up on the bathroom floor, wondering what I could’ve done to make you stay. 

You loved him, didn’t you?“ My sister asks, watching me lie on my bed.

“Of course,” I say, “he was my best friend.”

“No,” She sighs, “I mean, you really loved him, didn’t you?”

I bite my bottom lip to keep from letting any tears fall, “Yeah, yeah I did.


The fire inside him began to die out as the girl who had once been his fuel left him in the ashes of her heart.