Red was the title of the first poem I wrote. Now, I write poetry to help me cope with the stuggles in life.
I don’t want your sympathy through this post. I just want to know if people actually give a fuck about me. I know I won’t even get one note, let alone 50,000.
forever reblogging this because youre too perfect to ever do that ok ;_;
I DONT CARE WHAT BLOG YOU YOU REBLOG THIS NOW
(via thelyssymarie)
it is really cold outside today
and the children waiting on the bus stops have their scarves and mittens
i bundle in oversized sweaters
waiting for the snow to come
to blanket everything in white
crystals like a fresh start
like a blank page for writers
like a blank easel for painters.
i wait for the snow to come
shower everything with innocence and purity
with not knowing and not needing to know
what lies underneath (the blanket of)
whiteness, stillness
because the bears and the squirrels are sleeping,
because there is nothing for them to take,
the landscape is safe.
if only people could be snowed upon
i wouldn’t have to hide in layers of oversized sweaters
to protect my frail body
from the cold outside.
11/16/2012
In this delirium;
sometimes i forget who i am
so i wander down
the asylum hallways
trying to find myself
amongst all the other crazies
and the other 7 billion people out there
in the yonder gray.
I forget to smile
when the days are bleak
and start blurring again.
sometimes i forget the season is autumn
And i thought the trees
were burning, burning
the blistering leaves, red.
11/13/2012
(via areze)
I always dread the first day of school
because teachers always call roll
and I have to raise my hand.
“Just call me Meg.”
Because Margaret is what is listed
but it’s too long and big and bulky for
a height-challenged skinny girl like me.
Then they call me Megan,
which I don’t really mind,
but apparently my friends do.
Most people call me Meg,
or Megasaurus if you really want to,
because Margaret isn’t even mine
You see, it belongs to my mother
and grandmother and
who knows what other
familial member on my maternal side.
I would change it to Meg when I turn eighteen,
but that would only make them angrier.
I guess that means
my middle name, Ann,
isn’t mine either
because it
belongs to my father’s mother,
but I don’t really mind
because she was the nice grandmother.
So just call me Megasaurus or Meg
I don’t really care
as long as it’s not
Peggy please.
7/26/2012
