burnt heart
In the weeds, I lost myself.
In the weeds, my heart stopped beating.
In the weeds, I lived with my smashed-up garden.
In the weeds, my light stopped shining.
In the weeds, I’ve been lost for ages; nowhere to go to, no one to run into.
Where have I been? Where has the old version of me hidden?
Have I finally crossed the line that’s unforgiven?
A pulse can’t be heard; has my inner child finally died?
I screamed from
The top of my lungs,
But no one heard
A single sound.
The loving color of red
I saw with everyone before
Was actually so scarlet,
It’s maroon.
I dedicated my life
To be friends with everyone,
But everyone dedicated their lives
To end me.
In the weeds, no one helped.
In the weeds, no one cared.
In the weeds is where I found you.
In the weeds, I found the cure.
Instead of calling me a curse,
You stopped
The wine-stained color circulating around my heart
That has been poisoning my entire life.
Under the pressure
Of a piercing spear through my body,
I was still given a chance
To pick up the dagger, and fend for my image.
Whenever I trap myself
Inside a dangerous slammer I created in my mind,
I know I’ll never be alone,
Nor will I ever turn into stone.
With oceans so deep,
With light so hard to reach.
Every day, struggling to catch a glimpse of air;
A rope comes from above, you made it fair.
In the weeds, I’ve been saved.
In the weeds, you chose to come and help.
In the weeds, a pulse can be heard.
In the weeds, because of you, my light shined once more.
empty turtle
I can't write happy poetry, so I admire those who can
simple cobalt