Some Poems I Wrote

I honestly can’t believe I’m posting these poems on the Internet, but sometimes you have to feel a little uncomfortable before feeling fulfilled.  I started obsessing over the Button Poetry channel on Youtube my senior year of high school. Since then, I decided to try to write some poems myself that don’t sound too much like I’m wearing a metaphorical beret and purple-toned glasses.

Soo… let’s cut to the chase! Here’s a few of the poems I wrote either in my dorm room, by the Red Cedar river, or at an overpriced coffee shop.

Sanity

I listened to my heart beat.

It tasted like salt and felt

Like I held the world

On my shoulders.

It made me question my own sanity.

The word “sanity”

Itself is an illusion

For the craziest of us all

Are simply the most honest souls.

The ones who breathe without flinching.

When was the last time you told your mother you cried?

Purple

what color

would you paint

your love?

Gospel

The words dripped sweetly through your teeth

Like melting sugar cubes, like you meant it.

I know you thought you did,

But we were drowning in adolescence.

Your eyes searched my mask for an answer

And I agreed in a flurry of adolescence,

Yet I could tell my words rang as empty as a church on Monday.

To you they were gospel.

How can three syllables

Hold as much weight as a sinking ship?

To some they are sparklers on the Fourth of July

To others, fireworks that are just a little too loud.

Then you kissed me with a song

While my tongue tied in quiet apology.

Oil and water.

Milk and blood.

Curls

To the girl who shares my blood and bones:

Love yourself as much as I wish you did.

This world is too cruel to not play for

Your own team.

You are chestnut curls and

Skinny jeans with thrashed knees.

You are a magnificent storm my love.

Realize the tinsel that streams through your soul.

Make your life how you see it in

The technicolored dreams you see

Behind your eyelids each night.

I bet the scene is beautiful.

My Mind is Mistaken

Pretend the worries are ants,

Squish them with your toes.

Pressing your fingernails into your palms

Won’t make the firecracker thoughts go away.

Your mailbox is full again.

Try talking instead of listening.

Don’t let this fire consume you.

Don’t find comfort in the burn.

 

xoxo,

Mollz

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2 Comments

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  1. As empty as a church on Monday. That is empty!

    Like

  2. The world is too cruel not to play for your own team !!! Love

    Liked by 1 person

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