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Literature Text
Glassy eyes of painted ocean sea,
Synthetic hair in elastic bands
That strain the violet strings.
Grubby torso,
Splintered breasts over wire ribs,
Moulded with such useless pottery.
Protruding legs of cracked porcelain,
Threading fractures crisscrossed
Over the hips, like shaken buttermilk.
Stomach bloated thick and wide,
The china weakened with the effort
Of encasing what's within.
But beneath mutilated crockery
There is passion and pessimism;
Lungs, slippery wet and writhing for breath,
Blood pumping smooth as hearts,
Guts as soft as feathery gore.
Inside,
I am alive.
Synthetic hair in elastic bands
That strain the violet strings.
Grubby torso,
Splintered breasts over wire ribs,
Moulded with such useless pottery.
Protruding legs of cracked porcelain,
Threading fractures crisscrossed
Over the hips, like shaken buttermilk.
Stomach bloated thick and wide,
The china weakened with the effort
Of encasing what's within.
But beneath mutilated crockery
There is passion and pessimism;
Lungs, slippery wet and writhing for breath,
Blood pumping smooth as hearts,
Guts as soft as feathery gore.
Inside,
I am alive.
Literature
I am alive
I am alive
because I can feel.
Because my body
knows how to heal.
I am alive
when I dance in the rain
and let the sky's tears
wash away all the pain.
I am alive
and I know who I am.
If others don't like that
I don't give a damn.
I am alive
and I love every minute
I lift up my arms
for the sky is the limit.
Literature
Helping her out
I saw her staring into the nowhere,
And I found her beautiful that way.
Maybe she thought she was all alone,
But I won't go away, no I'll stay.
She noticed me smiling at her sad face,
I couldn't help but laugh to her eyes.
She probably felt lonely and left alone,
But I'll always be her angel in disguise.
But girl can't you see I'm here for you?
And I promise I'll stay by your side,
Girl can't you see, I want to help you?
In my arms you can stay and hide.
They talk so loudly but we are stronger.
The can say whatever they want.
but I know together we are louder,
and you'll be my everlasting jaunt.
Her eyes are like glass so frag
Literature
here i am, still holding on.
i write love poems
onto my freckled arms
hoping someone reads
my broken heart
like an open book.
does anyone care enough
to ask why the marker
is running down my arms?
no, it's too much ink
not tears,
of course not.
and then they preach to
the starlit skies wondering
why everyone is so
broken.
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Written for the contest 'Inside I'm Alive' by #The-Poetry-Cafe.
And yes - it's about me.
Contest info: [link]
And yes - it's about me.
Contest info: [link]
© 2010 - 2024 hannahdavies666
Comments11
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The imagery in this is just AMAZING. You truly have a way with words!