𝔑𝔞𝔫𝔞

afraid the pit would crack my mouth open,

afraid sweetness was a warning.

I bit anyway

cracked my teeth on hope,

let juice run warm like blood

along my tongue.

Now even the thought of fruit hurts.

My gums remember you

how desire swells,

how sweetness promises nothing,

how some things bruise you

from the inside out.

It’s a shame I paid so much

for a peach.

Funny how expensive sweetness can be.

Carefree and full of laughter,

Then my problem was with which of my colored pencils to draw the color of mom's skin that I drew in art class,

My problem was which cereal crunched best with my favourite orange juice

The problem was whether to write with the pink or the purple pen,

wait or the one that shines in gray

For while I worried about playground fights,

Now I stress over future prospects.

Kids fret over who's their best friend,

While graduates agonize over job trends,

Kids cry over spilt milk and broken toys,

While we chase opportunities with grown- up fears, sweating over resumes, interviews, and outcomes unknown.

With a diploma in hand and dreams in my heart

I am filled with a sense of both excitement and dread

As I stare out into the vast unknown

The years of studying and hard work

Have led me to this moment

Yet now that it's here, I feel lost

Not knowing which path to take

The pressure to succeed weighs heavily on my shoulders

It’s heavy

I want to do, be, see and learn everything and Im afraid a lifetime isn’t enough time for it all

The future lies ahead of me,

And I must make a choice,

Do I pursue my passion for art,

Or do I listen to the world's voice?

It’s like handing a second-grader a calculus problem

Too many variables, too little time,

And I’m still learning the basics.

Where is my flight to childhood,

Those wings of innocence and play

That once carried me far from worry?

In the shadows of hard times I dwell,

A journey through darkness, can't you tell?

My soul's in confusion,

Illusion or delusion,

Am I healed or just under a spell?

Unsure if I heal or just consume

In the depths of my heart, a whisper,

Of a love that once made me crawl ,

I clung to the past,

Though the pain would last,

Afraid to break free from its sinister.

In the night where memories kept,

Nostalgia's cruel art,

Tangled up my heart,

In chains of fear, I silently crept.

Whether I passed or not

Whether I moved on or not

I saw a light and strode confidently, noisily to it

I didn't crawl this timee

But it's a love that bloomed with the innocent fervor of youth and faded with the gentle cruelty of time. Years have passed, and while I have movedd on, the echo of that love lingers, a limb that reminds me of a tenderness I haven't felt since.

The pain of the separation was raw and all-consuming, a wound that refused to heal completely. Over time, the sharp edges dulled, but the scar remains, a constant reminder of the love that was and the pain of its loss.

The ghost of first love isn't a curse

it's a testament to the power of innocence and the depth of human connection.

It reminds me that love, even in its fleeting form, can leave an indelible mark on the soul.

For even though the first love may be gone, its essence remains, a silent, reminder that the capacity to love, to feel deeply, is a gift that endures long after the initial flame has faded.

It will be missed but it teaches us

it is something unexperienced young and innocent. It was difficult, it is difficult. but we were happy and childish

Anxiety grips me like suffocation

Pain and sadness are my constant relatives

In this tragedy of the soul, someone screams from within

I hear her voice again Ana or Mia

I feel the shadow coming along with the gray world

Don't beg Mia, please Ana shut me up, don't call you've done enough

Again I feel myself screaming softly and no one can hear me

That's exactly what I was afraid of

the silent scream

A shout with a slight hint of a raised tone and wanting them to drag me along

" I miss watching the moon with you at the beach" are the words that bring back too strong feelings of nostalgia in me.

Nostalgia has always been the hardest trait in me, thinking about the past constantly, remembering the deepest details just breaks me. It simply evokes feelings of happiness but it suddenly turns into sadness, loneliness, and longing for something that feels unattainable, it turns into melancholy.

22.08.22

She can't trust in a world she wears a mask that hides the pain

The mirror's reflection, warped ideals, relentless cries her body scarred by self-loathing and invisible scars

Her every meal, a struggle to survive calories are counted, she remains insecure

She longs for acceptance, to fit into society's mold

Yet her spirit is strong

But this battle is hers, a battle deep within her, a war only she can win. For within her lies a power so unspoken, To overcome her demons, her hunger, to hold.

The mirror reflects an illusion, a lie, as she starves with each passing night.

Counting every bite, her self-esteem shrinks away , swallowed by fear.

Days turn to weeks, weeks turn to months, her once vibrant spirit slowly dies.

But recovery is more than a physical fight, It’s about healing wounds that were hidden from sight, to unpack the pain, to confront the fears, to silence the cries, wipe away the tears. :)

RECOVERY <3

𝒜𝓃𝒹 𝓉𝒽𝒶𝓉’𝓈 𝓃𝑜𝓉 𝓉𝓇𝓊𝑒.

I didn't think they looked good on my head until...

She grabbed my hair and, teasingly out of boredom, braided me.

It wasn't much then until...

She hasn't hugged me in days

but I kept the braid until it falls apart,

until I see her again to braid me all over again.

For the moment, it didn't seem much

but now it's the only memory I have.

The memory of her loving hold,

A feeling that never grows old,

A warmth that lingers, a love so true,

A mother's touch, pure and through.

But now, only memories keep me company, Fading whispers of her touch, so heavenly.

Yet in my dreams, she still finds a way,

To hold me close, and gently sway.

Along with the little time we have together

Please mom

Be as gentle as you always are

but be slower for the longer lasting prints

Sometimes tenderness feels like two hands leaving burn marks on my shoulders

- Dk

I didn't think they looked good on my head until...

She grabbed my hair and, teasingly out of boredom, braided me

It wasn't much then until...

She hasn't hugged me in days

but I kept the braid until it falls apart,

until I see her again to braid me all over again.

Then I couldn't believe it was that special and now it's the only memory I have

and after the little time we have together and the development of thoughts and the wisdom of my consciousness.

Please mom

Be as gentle as you always are

but be slower for the longer lasting prints

Sometimes tenderness feels

like two hands leaving burn

marks on my shoulders

- DK

Other days, I feel nothing at all.

I don’t know what’s worse:

Drowning beneath the waves

and wonder