r/Original_Poetry

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Logic: https://www.reddit.com/r/logic/comments/1vsxwor/comment/p4ow8x3/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

true

I compared myself to everyone i saw today

the more i looked down 

the more i noticed the splinters in my knees

in the afternoon i looked up and found a golem

At night i will spackle my limbs with rotted leaves and saliva

tommorrow i stand at a new height.

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Humans search for truth,
even when it breaks them.

For a broken heart
is still better than an empty one—

for the cracks carved by truth
are always shallower
than the void born from silence.

That is why rejection,
however cruel it may seem,
is kinder than silence.

Rejection allows a man to bleed.
It grants him the dignity of pain—
the freedom to let sorrow spill—
onto the ground,
onto paper,
into tears.

But silence denies him even that mercy.

In silence, the soul clings
to the faintest flicker of hope.

Uncertainty does not wound—
it lingers.

It shapes illusions from nothing,
and each time the heart reaches for them,
it is cut—

never deep enough
to end the suffering,
only enough
to begin it again.

Truth liberates.

But uncertainty binds—
with threads so soft
they feel like hope,
yet strong enough
to hold a soul in place.

Rejection lets him fall—

lets him strike the earth,
break beneath the truth,
and gather
what remains of himself.

But silence leaves him
suspended between earth and sky—

neither allowed
to fall and heal,

nor to rise
toward what he longs for.

So—
end this quiet cruelty
with a truth sharp enough
to sever hope.

Let me bleed.
Let me write what remains of you within me.

My blood will clot into your name—

not to curse it,
nor to stain the colour of your eyes,

but to preserve you
in words
even a lifetime cannot erode.

And perhaps, one day,
these words will leave others envious
of a tragedy they never lived—

yearning for a single glimpse of you,
though to them
you could only ever remain
an imagined ache.

But you—

you would have been real in mine.

So end this silence—

for it can belong only
to indifference,

or to a heart unaware
of the quiet power
it holds over another.

Unaware of how deeply
he has become entangled
in the strands of her hair;

how he envies
even the smallest speck of dust
that dares to rest upon her lashes—

closer than he has ever been
to the place
where he longs to disappear.

A place where he would remain,
willingly imprisoned
for eternity—

within her eyes.

A fate so beautiful,
so tragic,
that even the gods
have never known it.

For her eyes
are the only mirror
in which he has ever loved
his own reflection.

~Writer’s Note: I have always wondered which is crueler—a painful answer, or no answer at all.

Rejection breaks something, but at least it gives the broken pieces somewhere to fall. Silence leaves them suspended, held together by that smallest and perhaps cruelest thing: maybe.

This poem was born from that thought—the strange mercy of being given a truth painful enough to finally grieve, rather than a hope too uncertain to ever let go of.

And perhaps that is all rejection really offers:

not freedom from pain,

but permission
to begin healing.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1vsbej4/comment/p4k15yz/?context=3&utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1vs74q9/comment/p4k0e8a/?context=3&utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

You turned me into a monster.
Then blamed me
for being born that way.
But I wasn’t born a monster.
You made me one.
You took a child
and tore him apart,
piece by piece,
over,
and over,
and over,
until there was barely anything
left to tear.
You looked at me
and didn’t see a child.
You saw something
that could be broken.
Something you could
rip apart
and rebuild
however you wanted.
You told me
I was nothing.
Worthless.
Never enough.
Never meant to be.
And I believed you.
I carried your words
inside my head
until they stopped
sounding like yours.
They became mine.
Now sometimes
I hear them again.
That voice telling me
I’m worthless.
That voice telling me
I’ll never change.
That voice telling me
that no matter how hard
I try,
I’ll always be
what you made me.
I want to rip those words
out of my mind.
I want to claw them
from my thoughts,
tear them from
every corner
of my memory,
and leave them
somewhere in the past
where they belong.
But I can’t erase you.
You’re my mother.
No matter how far
I run from what happened,
you are still a part
of my history.
A name written
into the pages
of my childhood.
And I hate that.
I hate that someone
who hurt me so deeply
will always be connected
to the person I became.
But maybe
I don’t have to erase you.
Maybe I just have to
stop letting you
write the rest of my story.
So I tell myself:
I am someone.
I am worth something.
I was meant to be here.
I deserve to exist.
I deserve to be loved.
I deserve to be more
than the things
you called me.
And God,
it’s hard.
It’s hard to look
into the mirror
and not see
the person you created.
Hard to look at my body
and hear your voice
telling me it isn’t enough.
Hard to try to change,
to work,
to become healthier,
while that old voice
whispers that I’ll never
be different.
But I’m trying.
I keep trying.
Because maybe healing
isn’t erasing the scars.
Maybe it’s learning
to look at them
and understand
they aren’t proof
that you were right.
They’re proof
that I survived
what you did.
The scars may take years
to fade.
Some may never disappear
completely.
But they’re mine now.
Not yours.
And slowly,
day by day,
I’m taking back
the pieces of myself
you convinced me
didn’t deserve to exist.
The anger.
The fear.
The child.
The body.
The voice.
The life.
All of it.
You may have had
a hand in creating
the monster I became,
but you don’t get
to decide
what comes next.
Because I’m learning
something you never taught me:
I am not what happened to me.
I am not what you called me.
I am not the monster
you made.
I am the person
who survived you.
And now,
I’m learning
how to become
someone you never imagined
I could be.

Fool—
yes, a fool is what I am—

a fool who dares to bind you with words,
who attempts to define
a person, a soul
so vast, so divine,

that even if I gathered
every word
from every language—known or forgotten—
I would still fall short
the moment I begin
to speak of you.

And yet, I try—
to engrave even a fragment,
to trace the faintest silhouette of you
within the hearts of those who read—

just enough
to make them envious,
to let the world know
that angels do descend upon the earth—

but the one I met
did not remain in the heavens,
nor upon the earth.

She was kind enough
to stumble upon someone like me—

and somehow,
found her way into my heart,
only to find herself tangled
within my soul.

Her eyes—
vast enough
to fall into by accident,
yet deep enough
that before one ever thought of leaving,
they might forget
there was a world
beyond them.

Her curls,
like dark vines,
winding softly around my heart—

bars of brown—
strong enough to bind a soul for eternity,
yet fragile enough
to tremble at a passing breeze.

She—
who dreams of wandering through France,
quietly in love with the mountains,
pausing for cats and butterflies—

clumsy, forgetful—
losing her thoughts mid-sentence,
always a little late—
just like me—

laughing at things
no one else seems to notice.

And somehow,
that makes her
more and more impossible to define—

for I am only a reader,
lost between her pages—

how could I ever claim
to know a story
when I lost myself
within its very first chapter?

So tell me—
will you let me remain
within your pages,
just long enough
to learn a little more of you?

~Writer’s Note: Perhaps the greatest foolishness in loving someone is believing we could ever completely put them into words. The more we learn—their dreams, their little habits, their imperfections, the things that make them laugh—the more we realize how much of them remains unread.

This poem is about that realization: beginning with the arrogance of trying to define someone, only to discover that a person is not something to be finished or understood all at once, but an endless story—one in which I somehow managed to lose myself within the very first chapter.

And perhaps I no longer wish to reach the final page.

Perhaps being allowed to keep reading is enough.

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1vrdat3/comment/p4cmwdu/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/comments/1vrat8z/comment/p4cocm1/?utm_source=share&utm_medium=web3x&utm_name=web3xcss&utm_term=1&utm_content=share_button

Spirit Guide though I can not see you with my eyes

I know you are the only reason I am still alive

Spirit Guide protecting me when in the lions den

Where I can not hide,wiping the tears away when I

Cry, spirit Guide though I can not see you with my

Eyes,I know you are always by my side...

Spirit Guide hear the prayer I pray today

With every step I take please show me the way

Be near,calm my fears when I am feeling lost

And afraid, forever, forever and always

Spirit Guide hear the prayer I pray today...

Spirit Guide take my hand and lead me back to

The ancient place I come from,help me to understand

My connection better to the great one,is it through

The eyes of the eagle,the bear or the wild cat

Give me the strength I need to leave the past behind

And find peace of mind,no looking back,no more

Looking back...

Spirit Guide hear the prayer I pray today

With every step I take please show me the way

Be near,calm my fears when I'm feeling lost

And afraid,forever,forever and always

Spirit Guide hear the prayer I pray,hear the prayer

I pray today!

Am I pretty? 

I laughed.

Alright, I'll indulge you.

You are not just pretty. You are beautiful.

You're also adorable in your PJs.

And gorgeous in the morning.

On top of that, just so you don't forget, I would also describe you as sexy beyond all reason.

She laughed.

Good answer.

Yes I do love the idea of us
maybe its a wild idea just given our luck
maybe after the tough years its just too much
but yes I still love the idea of us

I love the idea of holding your hand just because
the idea of kids and a dog and a house full of love
Of living in the small spaces of smiles and touch
The idea of crying together when life gets too tough

It's just so sad to me we had it so close
I guess it isnt meant for everyone i suppose

But, just maybe
A last shot, stay with me

What if I work real hard today to make this idea happen
and I put that idea into every word and action
and we spend today being kind and caring and happy
and we wake in the morning wanting the same thing exactly
So we do it again for a day, slow kind and trusting
and the smile becomes joy and the trust becomes loving
And you and me we pretend to live this idea of us
Day after day, month after month

Til one day, in many years, we both wake up,
and we've chosen and lived this idea of love
but its more than that, 'cause in every word and interaction
You and me, we've somehow willed that idea to happen
With our kids and a dog and a house full of love
All this time, the whole time, the idea was actually us

grey-yellow ceilings
grey-yellow walls
i feel myself creeping
into your concrete jaws

i see her bones broken from a lover
a waterfall of tubes keeps spilling over

we save what we can
then send her home to discover
the cure kept her living
but she can't afford to recover

secret codes and concrete jaws
we’re suffocating in ivory gauze

Comments:
https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/ZSoQ2vwuTB

https://www.reddit.com/r/OCPoetry/s/KIPFO1LGHI

Nobody is going to see you,
and that's okay.
You weren't made for stardom.
You were made from stardust,
love, and despair.
Intricately woven with the
best and worst parts of me.

Your road isn't going to be
laid with golden bricks,
but instead paved with
desolation and cut teeth.
There won't be a burial
with a marker on the side.
Only a faded outline will remain
and whisper of where your rot lied.

And all that is still just fine.
Despite your isolation from a world
that will never celebrate you,
you still mean something.
You're many things:
honest, forgotten,
and as sweet as formaldehyde,
but most importantly, above all,
You are proudly mine.

She was temptation sculpted in flesh and danger wrapped in silk. Those eyes those deep, haunting brown eyes didn’t just look at you they undressed you. Peeled back your soul and made you like it. There was no safety in her gaze, only surrender

And her scent God help me it wasn’t a fragrance it was a command. Dark, warm, spiced like sin and honey . It hit you low in the gut, made your hands shake with the need to touch her, to taste her, to worship every inch. Even now, I smell it on my skin like she branded me. Maybe she did

Her body is Unholy Every curve a promise, every step a slow pull toward sweet damnation. She didn’t walk she glided, like lust incarnate, hips speaking a language my hands were born to answer. Her voice is like silk over a blade soft, sultry, and laced with something that made you want to misbehave.

She didn’t ruin me I offered myself. Again and again. And if she walked through that door right now, I’d fall to my knees, beg to drown in her all over again.

I looked into your eyes, just for a little while,
Just long enough to lose myself inside your smile.
I thought I knew myself, I thought I knew my way,
But somewhere in your gaze, I seem to lose myself each day.

Your eyes became a labyrinth, beautiful and deep,
I wandered in too far, and now the way back seems asleep.
I don't know what has happened, or when I lost my view,
I only know I'm not quite myself
whenever I'm with you.

And then there are your lips,
the ones that make me lose all my thoughts,
The kind I find myself looking at
when I probably shouldn't be caught.

And your voice—
I don't know what you've done to me,
But when you speak, the world gets quiet,
and somehow I just want to listen endlessly.

Baby you're sweet in ways you don't even see,
the kind in the little things that mean the most to me.
And I love the way you get shy and run away,
Like the smallest compliment can steal your words away.

There's something so beautiful
about the softness that you carry,
Because beneath that shy smile
is a heart that's anything but ordinary.

I've seen how strong you can be
when you have every reason to run,
How you stood for what you felt
when standing up wasn't easy for anyone.

And that's when I realized
there's so much more to you
than the beauty that first caught my eyes—
there's a courage in you, too.

I know there are days
when your mind makes life hard,
When getting through the smallest things
can take everything you've got in your heart.

And I won't tell you
that I can make all of that disappear,
I won't promise a life without darkness,
or pretend I'll always know what to say or hear.

But I can promise this:
When the world feels heavy,
you won't have to carry it alone.
When you lose your way,
I'll walk beside you until you find your road home.

When you're tired,
I'll be somewhere you can rest.
When you doubt yourself,
I'll remind you of the person I see as your best.

I won't try to change you,
I won't ask you to be someone new.
I'll simply stand beside you
and face whatever comes with you.

We'll laugh when life is gentle,
and hold on when it gets rough.
We'll celebrate the little things
when the big things feel too tough.

And if you ever forget
how strong you've always been,
I'll remind you of the girl
who stood her ground and didn't give in.

So maybe I did lose myself
somewhere inside your eyes,
Maybe that's why I can't explain
these feelings I can't disguise.

But perhaps getting lost
isn't always something to fear—
Because somehow, in losing myself,
I found something I want to keep near.

I found your smile.
Your voice.
Your shy little ways.
Your kindness in the smallest moments,
your courage on the hardest days.

And if you let me,
I'd like to stay.

Not just for the beautiful days,
not just when everything feels right,
but beside you through the uncertainty,
through the darkness and the light.

I don't know exactly where
this road will take us two,
But if I get to walk it beside you,
I think I'd be happy to.

Because I may have lost myself
the moment I looked into your eyes—

but if loving you
is where I find myself again,

then maybe
I was never really lost at all.

Once upon a time, there was a tiny worm,

Not so special, but with a heart so warm.

She rarely complained and tried her best,

And favored her dreams over her rest.

She really wanted to be a gorgeous butterfly,

Flex her pretty wings, be able to fly as high.

But she couldn't fly—she didn't have wings yet,

Though everyone changed, and eveyone left.

She couldn't keep up; that made her worry,

She was different, and difference is scary.

So she tried harder, but what could she do?

She was only a tiny worm, and now lonely too.

Because all her friends moved far away,

The moment they lost the reason to stay.

Why would they? They could fly on their own,

They didn't need her, so they left her alone.

What a way to turn a golden heart to stone!

But she didn't give up, for patience is key,

And her dazzling self she promised to see.

Isn't it an inspiring story to remember?

That fate can to dedication surrender

But you seem to forget a tiny detail:

Worm and caterpillar aren't the same, by tale.

This story was never about dedication,

It's about knowing your own capacitation.

Don't set high goals that you can't face,

Or you'll end up stuck in the same place

—For example, this tiny worm in this case. :)